The Fall of Saints
by EnnaArik
Summary: After the Saints miraculously manage to escape prison, crime lords become overly paranoid of their inevitable deaths and are determined to get to the Saints before they get to them. To do this, they go to their best contract killer, the pride of a Russian family's long history of assassins, Valentina Volkov.
1. Chapter One

It seemed to be the only story on any of the new channels. It was all over the newspapers. Plastered on all the news site online. Hell, even social media explored about it. They were out; the Saints were out. They called it genius, the work of a true master mind. The top FBI detectives in the country couldn't seem to figure out how they managed to get out. Three years after they were condemned to rot for life, they managed to break out. They were out, and I was going to have to kill them.

I sat in the den, alone, with the curtains drawn shut and lights out. The only light in the room from the fireplace; I listened to the wood crack from the heat as I drank my wine. I heard the knock at the door, the knock I had been waiting for. My brother didn't wait for me to tell him to come in, he just did. The lights from the hall flooded my dark space and I kept my eyes turned to the fire as I heard his footsteps coming closer. "Val," He whispered my name, "They called." He spoke to me in Russian, our first language.

"Do they know where the Saints are?" I spoke back in Russian.

"They're probably half way back to Ireland now."

"If they're gone, then why-"

"Because they'll come back."

"They didn't before, not until they drew them out. The way I see it, as long they keep their toes in line, they won't have any more problems."

"It's not our place to question them Val, only do as we're asked."

"You mean do as we're told."

"You should be thanking me for this contract, it's made you a rich woman."

"I never cared much for riches." I stood from my chair, keeping my wine in hand as I turned to face my brother. Vladimir was a terrifying man to look at; tall with wide shoulders, head shaved but a full black beard lining his rather square looking jaw. We looked nothing alike, really. "Get everything ready." I wasn't scared to give him orders, he might have acted like the brains of this team, like the boss, but truth was he was one who was really scared of me.

Vladimir is my twin brother, making our vast differences in appearance rather ironic. Volkov is our family name, meaning wolf. The only thing we had in common was out matching wolf tattoos forearms. "We are more than a family, we are a pack." My father always told us. We came from a long line of highly trained assassins, who always worked in siblings teams. My brother was the planner, the coordinator, I was the killer. He might have been bigger than me, stronger, but he didn't know how to kill. Killing came easy to me, so easy that my father said I was born to kill. He was right.

I didn't look like much of a killer; I was barely five foot three, and I was cursed with a "baby face". While Vladimir looked too old for his age, I still looked like I belonged in high school. It was better that way really; I used it to my advantage. No one suspects you're going to slaughter them when you look like a sweet and innocent teenager.

My hair was a rich brunette color, cut into a trendy "bob" style, with the layers in the back cut shorter and then the front. My front layers came to about my shoulder, while the back was more even with my chin. My skin was naturally rather fair, made my brilliant blue eyes stand out even more. Since I looked so young I tried my best to dress to look older and wear heels to compensate for my short height. Out for business, however I had a slightly different wardrobe. I wore some dark denim jeans and black combat styled boots. I layered a black leather jacket over a plain black tee and wore a pair of leather gloves. I had an undeniable love for ray band sunglasses, mine of course were black.

I packed an extra pair of clothes, some overnight products (i.e. shampoo, toothpaste, etc.), and my favorite hunting knife. Everything else I'd need would be waiting for me when I landed in Ireland. After I was dressed and packed my brother was waiting for me out in the car to take me to a private airport, in the car he gave me a file with everything I'd need to know about the Saints. I flew out from Russia to Ireland to another private airport. From there I traveled via helicopter to a small village where the Saints were "presumed" to be. My family's empire ran like a well-oiled machine with employee's ranging in very different fields. Transportation, weapon suppliers, spies, techs, and the clean-up crew. They all got me from Russia to this tiny piss-poor Irish village, supplied me with a car and gave me the address to a small farm house where I was instructed to "set up shop". They had already stocked the house with everything I'd need; food and weapons galore.

I made myself dinner, ate and drank some wine by the fireplace before I started to study up on my files. Two seemingly average men take up arms and wage a war on crime. Follow in their father's footsteps without even realizing that was what they were doing. They recited a family prayer before each kill, crossed the victim's arm and placed pennies on the eyes. Poetic, ridiculous, but poetic. When you got down to it, they were hardcore killers just like me. Only difference was they justified their killings by only going after those they felt deserve their bullets. I just killed as I was told.

The next morning there was a knock at the door. It was a man, an employee of the family business. He didn't say anything to me, didn't even look at me, just handed me an envelope and went about his day. Inside the envelope were pictures of two men entering an old run down looking farmhouse. On the back of one picture, scribble in ink, was an address.

I put my knife in a sheath, clipped onto my belt. I had two separate guns in holsters, each strapped to my legs from my belt as well a third on the actual hip of my belt. I waited till night and then drove out to the Saint's farmhouse. I parked the car about two miles away and went the rest on foot. The house was pretty well surrounded by wooded area, which played well to my advantage. I walked through the trees, staying off the more opened road. I saw a faint light in the distance before I really saw the house, and when I got closer I could see the light coming from a window. It was still a good ways away and the window had curtains drawn shut in front of it. It was pretty late, and at around eleven when the light in the window went off it was pretty safe to assume the Saints had gone to bed for the night.

I walked another thirty minutes, just to make sure they were good and asleep before I made my move.


	2. Chapter Two

They just stared at her for a good long while, not entirely sure how to proceed. She was knocked out cold, and tied up tighter than tight to the dining chair from her hands to feet. They put her weapons on the table after properly examining them. Everything about her said assassin from the weapons, to her clothes, and rather late break in to their house. How she found them was beyond them, but she was there for an obvious purpose; to kill them.

"What are we gonna' do with her?" Conner was the first to ask after a rather long and uncomfortable silence.

"We can't kill her, I mean, she's a woman!" Murphy argued.

"But she did try to kill us. Woman or not, she would have put bullets in both our heads."

"But she didn't. She could have, but she didn't." Murphy reminded his brother as they turned to face each other each. "And I'm rather curious as to why she didn't."

"I'm more curious as to how she found us." Conner mused before they looked back to her. "She looks so young."

"That she does." Murphy added. "Too young to be running around killing people in the dead of the night, that's for certain."

They heard her groan and saw her arms twitch ever so slightly. Her eyes fluttered opened, and her neck rolled before she lifted her head up. Her nose had stopped bleeding, but the blood was dried down her face, and the hit she took was definitely going to leave a black eye after a while.

Murphy looked at Conner, Conner kept his eyes on her for a moment before speaking to her, "Don't suppose you're going to tell us your name, are you?"

She spit at them, both saliva and blood, before mumbling something in Russian they both easily recognized as "Burn in hell."Conner was first to respond to her, in her mother tongue, "Burn yourself." Her reaction made it apparent she hadn't known much about them, that they were fluent in several different languages. "Who are you?" Conner again asked, speaking Russian.

"Kill me." She spoke in English now, her voice sounding tired. "If you don't, they will."

"They?" Murphy stepped forward, kneeling down to her eyes level. "Who sent you?"

"Don't act like you're surprised. They all want you dead, every criminal in Boston wants your heads."

"It was probably the Russians." Conner mused out loud.

"You think just because I'm Russian I work for Russians? What a dull man you are. I kill for whoever has the biggest check book."

"But you didn't." Murphy sort of whispered. She looked at her, her big round eyes staring at him in wonder as he continued, "You didn't kill us."

"You fought me. I'm not used to that."

"You just sneak in late at night and kill people while they're sleeping? Not very sportsmen like of you." Conner commented dully.

"I'm not a fighter, I'm a killer, there's a difference, let me assure you." She rolled her eyes.

"But you could have killed us, before we fought you there was a chance for you to kill us without any altercation but you didn't." She looked at Murphy as he spoke to her, her eyes seeming to cloud as he watched the turmoil build inside her. "Tell us who sent you."

"Why won't you kill me?" She almost sounded like she was begging now.

"You've never failed before?" Conner asked.

"If I had you think I would have lasted this long in the business?"

"Judging by your age I'd say you hadn't been in the business that long at all." Conner retorted.

"You have no idea how old I am." She sort of laughed under her breath.

"Why don't we just kill her?" Conner finally said, as if he had been thinking it the entire time. "She's not going to tell us anything, woman or not we might as well just do it now because if we don't she'll just kill us first chance she gets."

Murphy stood, looking at his brother with a more lack luster expression, "I don't think we should."

"You better listen to him," She coughed out. Murphy looked back at her and she sort of smiled at him, "Because he's right. I will kill you if you don't kill me first."

Murphy turned away from her, shaking his head, "If we kill her before she tells us who sent her, they'll just send someone else to kill us. They'll keep sending more until we find them and kill them."

"Wanna' know the truth?" They both looked at her as she leaned her head back a bit to look at the ceiling. "You kill me, and the people who sent me will be the last of your problems." She looked back at them, arching her eyebrows up a bit before sighing softly, "I'm not trying to convince you not to kill me or anything, I mean, you might as well. I'm simply saying even if I tell you who sent me, it's not going to matter, not now anyway."

"C'mon," Conner grabbed his brother's shoulder and lead him out of the kitchen, leaving her there tied to the chair as they went into the bedroom and shut the door. "We need to figure out what to do with her, and quick." Conner whispered, being careful she didn't hear.

"She didn't kill us for a reason Conner." Murphy tried to argue, but Conner shook his head.

"That doesn't really matter right now." Conner looked down at his feet, trying to figure it all out in his head. "We can't let her go, she's not going to tell us what we want to know," He looked up at his brother with almost a pleading look in her eyes, "We just need to kill her Murphy. If another assassin comes, we can see if they'll break, but she won't."

Murphy said nothing for a while, just looked off to the side before mumbling under his breath, "She said whoever sent her would be the last of our problems, right?" He looked up now at Conner, an idea brewing in the depths of his mind. "Someone will be coming for her, a partner or something. We hold her here, hostage, and when they come we bargain her life for the answers."

"That's if only one comes." Conner pointed out. "If they ambush us, they'll kill us and take her. Why are you so against us killing her?"

"Because I saw something in her eyes, when she had that gun to my head. She looked confused and scared. Even if we hadn't fought back, she would have stood there for hours with that gun to my head and never even think about pulling the trigger. She didn't want to kill me Conner, I could tell."

"Murphy, whatever she's a part of, it's dangerous because she sounds pretty convinced she's going to die whether it's us who kill her or not."

"I can't…" Murphy whispered, "I can't kill her Conner."

"You won't have to." Conner shoved his brother back away from the door. Murphy just stood there, not fighting back or trying to stop Conner as he opened the door and went back out into the kitchen. He shut the door behind him and looked at the girl sitting so helplessly in the chair, not even trying to untie the rope or anything. He went over to the table, picking up one of her guns and checking the see if it was loaded before stepping back in front of her. He took a few steps back, holding the gun level to her forehead. She looked up at him, not afraid of the gun. Her eyes caught his, he tried not to look but he couldn't help it. He saw it, in her eyes just like Murphy had said. She was scared.


	3. Chapter Three

I went in through the back door. Picking locks had never really been much of an extreme difficulty for me, but locks on an old farm house like this was basically like opening an unlocked door. Even with boots on, my steps were light; little people often made little noise. I kept a gun in my right hand, hunting knife in my left as I crept through the darkness of the house. I moved slow, watching my step and being careful not to run into any furniture to create any unwanted noise.

I saw three doors, one opened to a bathroom, and two shut. Worst case scenario, there was a brother in each room which would make this bit harder. Killing one would surely alert the other. Killing two people at the same time was always a tricky business, but not nearly as difficult as it could be if done properly. Best case scenario, they were both in the same room and I could take them both out in their sleep without a single problem.

I stepped forward, moving towards the door close to me and as I took that single step, I heard a very loud creak in the silence from the wood floor beneath my feet. I froze, petrified for a mere second. I listened closely, listened for any hint that perhaps I had woken any one of the brothers. There was a noise, another creak from another step on the wood floor. It came from the room across the way, and my head snapped in that direction. I held the gun facing the other door, waiting for someone to emerge. I heard no footsteps coming towards the door; instead I heard a noise suggesting a body laying back down onto a metal bed frame. Well, I knew one brother was in that room, the question now was whether or not there was one in the room I was by.

Slipping my hunting knife back into my sheath, I slowly turned the doorknob and creeped inside carefully. I could see a figure in a bed, passed out on top of the covers. He was shirtless and still wearing blue jeans. It was a little too dark to tell which brother from where I stood, but honestly it didn't entirely matter. I stepped forward slowly, moving to the end of the bed with my gun pointed forward at his sleeping body. He was on his back, which made aiming for his head so much easier. As I stood there I realized something rather awkward…I hadn't killed him yet. I should have pulled the trigger by now, but I hadn't. Upon the realization I started to feel something, something that had never occurred to me when on a job before…Doubt.

Should I kill this man? I mean, I could very easily that was without question. But that wasn't the question. The question was, should I? Did he deserve to die? No, he didn't.

I wasn't sure how long I stood there, holding the gun aimed for his head, but it was longer then I needed to be there. I noticed my lingering presence once the brother started to stir in his sleep. It was like he knew he was being watched, because almost instantly he popped up in his bed so quick it actually startled me. I tried to remain still, calm and stern as I kept the gun aimed right for his head (which was now just a short distance from my barrel). Now he was up I recognized him as Murphy. His eyes cut from my gun to me…to my gun to me. His eyes caught mine for a moment, his eyes were tired and face confused. His breathing was heavy but he didn't seem scared. I was though. I was scared. I was scared I wasn't going to be able to pull that trigger. My entire life killing was such an easy task for me, my entire life I could kill without question and yet here I was, questioning.

It was like he could tell I was conflicted. He didn't try to plea, try to fight. He just sat there on his bed, looking at me with a certain amount of understanding and comfort that put me in a strange sense of ease. I gripped my gun tighter, as if that was going to motivate me to pull the trigger any sooner. It didn't. I couldn't do it, I knew I couldn't yet I stood there with my gun up hoping I would get a hold of myself.

I looked at him, his eyes locked with my own but then I saw something, in the darkness I could see his eyes flicker out of our stare for just a moment. He didn't look at my gun as he had before, but he snapped his sights right back to me before I knew it. But still, that single split second was all I needed to know…someone was behind me, Conner was behind me.

I felt arms wrap around me and Murphy lunged forward on the bed to punch me in the face. I took the hit, but with my free hand (Conner had poor judgment not to restrain my arms while he had the chance)I smacked him right across the face. I lifted a leg up, pressing my foot against the metal bed frame, and shoved backwards, throwing off Conner's balance. Conner fell back with me still in his hold, but once he hit the floor I elbowed him in the ribs and loosened his grip. I rolled right out of his hold only to have the weight of Murphy come crashing down on top of me. I rolled to get on top, he rolled back, we did this a few times before we rolled right into the wall; his back being the one to slam into the wall.

I got back up on my feet only to be greeted with a swing from Conner. I bent back to dodge his fist, and grabbed my knife. I took a swing at him but as I moved forward Murphy jumped up onto his feet and grabbed a handful of my hair and brought my head down to meet his knee. I stabbed my knife as deep into his leg as I could, holding onto his thigh as I did and pulling it up to make him loose balance and fall back against the wall. Before I could even completely regain my posture Conner punched me, again in the face. He grabbed my shoulder and tried to pull me closer but when he did I punched him right in the gut. I grabbed his shoulder, bringing my knee to his gut and shoving him back.

I pulled a gun out now, aiming right for his head and he froze once he saw. He held his arms up, as if to surrender, but before I could even get my finger on the trigger I felt Murphy's hand grab my ankles and jerk my feet back, causing me to fall face first onto the ground. Conner kicked the gun out of my hand so hard I was almost sure he broke a finger or two and Murphy pounced onto my back, digging his knees into the back of shoulders and he held my head down. Next thing I felt was a swift knock to the back of my head and I blacked right out.


	4. Chapter Four

When Conner came out of that room, out by himself, I knew he had won the argument. I knew he was going to kill me. I knew this was for the best, if I returned home a failure my brother would have strangled me, or worse. Volkov's never failed, and if they did, they went out in gunfire. But as Conner picked up my own gun and held it to my head I felt something pulling at my heartstrings. I felt something I thought was dead to me. I felt fear of death. The cold hard end of a life I had excelled so well at living. The uncertainty of what was waiting for me after I died, after he put that bullet in my skull. That didn't matter, not now. It was too late, and I accepted that.

I tried to seem unconcerned, like the gun to my face didn't scare me even though it did. I looked him in the eyes with all the courage and dignity I could muster in that single humiliating moment, but I felt water welt up in my eyes. I felt the burn sensation of tears that I fought back. It was bad enough I was going to die tied to a chair, I wasn't going to be crying too. I watched his eyes as he watched me; so stern and certain but something started to change. I saw the same look of understanding Murphy had given me as I held that gun to his head, now in Conner's eyes as he held that gun to mine.

He lowered the gun, looking down at it in his hand. I saw the conflict in his mind, he knew he should kill me but he started to wonder whether or not he actually wanted to. He looked back at me, now with a decision in my mind but one I couldn't read from his face. I bit my lip, waiting for what he'd do next. He dropped the gun, he dropped it and held his arms up and behind his head, "Fuck me." Was all he said as he started to pace.

"Conner?" I heard Murphy's voice from the room just before he came out. His eyes took in the scene; me in the chair, still alive, and Conner pacing with the gun dropped to the floor. "Conner?" He said his brother's name again, trying to make sense of what he saw.

I watched them exchange a single look, as if they could tell everything the other was thinking with just a glance and a sense of understand seem to fall between them as they looked at me. "You don't want us to kill you, do you?" Murphy asked me with a soft tone as he stepped closer to me. I wanted to tell him to fuck off, I wanted to be a cold hard ass like before and insist they put that bullet in my head, but I couldn't. The tears won my little battle and fell down my face as I shook my head no. "And you're not going to kill us, are you?" He wasn't really asking, he was more or less stating a fact that we both knew was true. I shook my head again, biting my lip to fight the urge to sob. "Tell us your name."

"Valentina Volkov." I didn't hesitate, I didn't give a fake name, I was honest, as honest as I ever was because I told them more than just my name, I gave them my entire life. I saw their eyes, I saw something in them just from that. With my name I seemed to have earned their trust.

"Tell us who sent you." Conner asked now, stepped to stand next to his brother.

"My brother has a contract with the Yakavetta family. We work for them."

"You work with your brother?" Conner further questioned me.

That was when I told them everything. About my family's business, about our entire empire. I told them Vladimir arranged everything and I just carried out my orders. I also told them if I didn't report back, Vladimir would personally come to retrieve me, dead or alive, and finish the job if I had failed. They said nothing, only listened, very closely. I could see the wheels in their heads turning, trying to figure out their next steps.

"Will he come alone?" Conner asked me.

"Honestly, I don't know, as we've never been in this predicament before. I wouldn't know why he'd need to bring others, but backup would only be a quick phone call away."

"How soon will he come?"

"He'll be waiting for my report tomorrow morning; once it's late he'll arrange everything to come down here. After he arrives, he'll take a night to recover from his travels, freshen up a bit, and be on his way the next morning."

"Then we have till then to figure out how to proceed." Conner mused out loud.

"He dangerous, your brother?" Murphy asked me.

"Well, he's no killer, but he packs a pretty rough punch. I would know."

I saw concern in Murphy's face, and I didn't have to explain for him to know. Vladimir often hid his fear of me by abuse, trying to assert his dominance by violence. I never hit back, I knew it wouldn't hurt him so I never saw a point. "What will he do to you if he gets you back?"

"Well…" I thought back to one time a spy in our employee betrayed us, warned a target we were coming because he felt the target didn't deserve death. "First, he'll most likely break my legs so I can't run from him. He won't tie me up, just leave me on the floor. He'll leave me alone for days, no food, no water. I've never seen him torture a woman before, but I know he's fond of rape, I don't imagine he'd spare me that treatment. I don't know how long he'll keep me alive, but when he does grow bored of me I imagine he'll beat me to death, with his bare hands. He says weapons leave too much room for human error."

I saw the look of horror and disgust on both their faces. Murphy was the first to say anything, "Would you stop us from killing him?"

"I really don't think I would."

"He's your brother…" Conner sounded so confused.

I was eager to correct him, "He's my business partner. In an ideal world all siblings are as close as you two, but this isn't an ideal world. In my world my brother is nothing more than an abusive power hungry son of a bitch who uses me to get rich. I can't say I've ever felt any sort of love or closeness to him, only content because I had to, because it made things just a little easier to stand. But I promise you, he'd lock me up in a cold dark room, beat and rape me till I die, so I'd have no problem watching either one of you blow his brains out."

Conner seemed rather off-put by what I had to say and I watched him back away, less than pleased with me. That was when Murphy asked me, "If we kill him, will more come?"

"Not from my family. We don't 'do' revenge. If a team fails, they fail. We move on. We don't honor their failure by getting even. I can't say what the Italians will do. I'm sure they'll be less than happy that you're both still alive, but I doubt any other assassin they hire will have the resources my family does and be able to find you."

"So we kill your brother, no one else comes for us, and then what do we do with you?"

"Let me go, I suppose."

"Where will you go?"

"Does it honestly matter?"

"It does to me." Murphy looked at me, his eyes filled with so much regret. Regret for what, I wasn't sure, but I knew that was what he was feeling, what was eating away at him as he looked at me then.


	5. Chapter Five

I washed my hair…well, more like just got it wet since there was no shampoo or conditioner in the shower. There was a bar of soap; I couldn't remember the last time I had actually seen a bar of soap. The water wasn't even all that hot, but it was better than nothing. What little heat there was felt good, especially after that rather brutal beating I took. Murphy had given me a towel, black tee shirt, and navy colored boxers, then sent me into the bathroom to wash up.

I wandered out of the bathroom, a cloud of steam escaping when I opened the door, with a towel wrapped up around my hair. I saw Murphy in the kitchen, pouring alcohol over the cut from where I stabbed him in the leg. "Sorry about that." I sort of mumbled out to him as I shuffled awkwardly across the hardwood floors with my bare feet, holding all my bloody clothes in my arms.

"Eh, I've had worse than this." He commented simply, looking up at me with a rather odd reassuring smile. I couldn't help but notice as I stood there in the kitchen, my guns and knife had been moved from the table. Murphy must have noticed me searching for my weapons because he then said, "Conner put them away for safe keeping."

"You mean he hid them from me in case I decide to kill you in your sleep?"

"I was trying to be nice about it."

"You know I'm going to need those, for when Vladimir comes. I mean no offense or anything, but I'm even sure the two of you could take him. And once he breaks both your backs, you're going to need a gun in my hand to make sure he doesn't bash your skulls in."

"I'm sure we'll be just fine. Besides, we're gonna' keep you hidden, where he can't see you."

"And why is that?"

"We want him to think you're dead. If he kills us but knows you're alive, he'll take you back. I don't want that to happen."

"Are you trying to imply you're doing this for my protection?"

"That is exactly what I'm trying to imply."

"I don't need protection."

"Well that is just too damn bad." He stood up from where he had been sitting at the kitchen table and sort of stumbled over towards me on his wounded leg to take the handful of clothes from me. "I can ride into town tomorrow and get you some fresh clothes."

"You can't just wash these?"

"Sure, but these blood stains aren't gonna' come out. We wash everything by hand, and no amount of elbow grease is gonna' get that much blood out. And when you leave, do you really want to travel in blood stained clothes?"

"You don't know my sizes."

"I'd assume small." He sort of laughed, as if it was some sort of joke.

"Small or not I can still kick your ass." I snorted at him.

"I didn't say you couldn't, simply that you're so…tiny." He tossed my clothes into a trash bag and sat back at the table, pushing the other chair out with his foot and gesturing for me to sit down. I sighed, rolled my eyes, and sat down with my arms crossed over my chest. "Just how old are you anyway? You barely looked seventeen."

"I'm twenty two."

"Still pretty young." He commented as he leaned back a bit in his seat. "How long have you been-"

"Killing people?" I cut him off and he nodded simply. "I've been training for as long as I can remember. I was eleven the first time I ever killed a man. Sixteen when I started out on missions. I'm no warrior. I can't fight to save my life. I know basics, enough to last in a fight, enough to buy time until I can get my hand on a gun. That's my expertise. Vladimir was never a good shot. He could hardly bring himself to pull a trigger and when he did he could miss even if you were standing right in front of the barrel. He was scared of guns, of knives, never really knew why. He was always a more physical creature, and I've seen him do horrible things with his bare hands. But he won't kill them, never right away. He likes to torment his victims. He's no assassin, father always told him that. In a way, father was ashamed of Vladimir, he said it was pathetic that I was a more efficient killer. Vladimir pretended like he didn't care, but he did. The mental torture had been going on my entire life, but when we were thirteen, that was when he started to hit me. He was jealous, so he'd hit me. My brother never loved me, he never loved anyone. He just loved to watch people suffer. He's a monster. I know maybe you could argue, say I am too…but…I do this because it's all I've ever known. It's what I was birthed into this world to do. I was born a killer, it comes as naturally to me as breathing because that was how I was raised. I'm good at it, damn good at it. Sometimes I think about what kind of life I'd live if I wasn't this, if I wasn't a killer. I've always loved the arts. I imagine if I had been raised with half as much dedication to music or dance I'd either be a world class ballerina or master pianist. But I'm not, and I never will be. I will always be a killer. Even when I leave here, it will always be something that will follow me for as long as I live. Even if I stop, I will always be a killer."

I saw the pain on Murphy's face, the empathy in his eyes and sadness in his expression. It was then I realized I had been crying, because he leaned forward and with his index finger he wiped a tear from my face. He was afraid because I was afraid. He was heartbroken because I was heartbroken. He didn't have to say anything for me to know he understood me. He took my hand in his and looked me in the eyes with such a calming sense of comfort I almost forgot everything, who I was, where I was, and that my brother would be here in a few days.

Murphy didn't want me to die, and I didn't want him to either. Murphy and Conner both. Murphy said they'd protect me when Vladimir came, and I knew then I'd protect them if I needed to. And I knew I would need to.

"You should get some rest." Murphy finally broke the silence, letting go of my hands and standing to his feet. "When you wake up, you're gonna' give Conner and I the full run down about Vladimir. We need to know exactly what we're up against, got it?" I nodded and stood up from my chair. Murphy pointed over to his room, "You can take my bed, I'll sleep on the couch. I promise it's more comfortable than it looks."

"I'm sure I'll manage." I tried to smile, he smiled back, and I walked over to the room.

"Oh and Valentina," Murphy called to me as I reached the door. I looked back over my shoulder at him and he smiled, "Thanks for not killing me."

"Call me Val." I said back, returning his smile, "And thanks for trusting me."


	6. Chapter Six

I could feel the sweat rolling down my brow, dropping into my eyes and burning. I didn't dare blink. I kept both my eyes open and focused, focused on Vladimir. His eyes were in a dead lock with mine and while I remained perfectly calm and cool, he was shaking like a leaf. I saw the shock in his eyes, trying to make sense of what he saw. Why was I standing over Conner with my gun drawn at his face? That was what he was thinking, it was written all over him.

I let my eyes leave Vladimir for just a moment, looking to make sure Murphy was still breathing. He was on the floor, trying to get up just behind Vladimir. Bad mistake. Vladimir followed my line of sight and the moment he realized Murphy wasn't dead he grabbed him by his hair and pulled him up onto his feet. He held his knife at Murphy's throat and gave him a cringe worthy glare. I heard Murphy gasp, I saw the blade up against his throat and a certain sense of rage came over me. I wanted nothing more than to beat my brother down and make him suffer for what he did to them; but I couldn't do that while Vladimir had Murphy.

"You have to be joking." Vladimir spoke to me in Russian, unaware the twins could understand his every word. "What the fuck do you think you're doing Val. Protecting them? Their cocks must be some spectacle."

"Bigger than yours." I returned in Russian.

He jerked Murphy's head back by his hair and held his knife closer to Murphy's throat, "Say that again bitch."

I still had a clear shot; I could take him out no problem. But in the time it took the bullet to get to his head he could easily cut Murphy's throat. I wasn't going to risk it. I need Murphy out of Vladimir's arms.

"You would turn against your own brother?" He asked me, as if he really thought it was such a shocker. I tried my best to keep my eyes on Vladimir, to try to figure what game he was playing at, but I couldn't help but to look at Murphy. He was trying so hard to act like he wasn't scared, but he was. "I came here to rescue you." Vladimir tried to guilt me, but I spit at him.

"You came here to finish the job so you could collect your money."

"That was beside the point." He barked back at me.

"Let him go Vladimir." I was wasting any more time debating my brother's love or loyalty. I needed to end this as quickly as possible.

"Oh?" Keeping one hand holding the knife at Murphy's throat, he let go of Murphy's hard and grabbed a gun from a holster on his belt from under his jacket. He pointed it forward, but not at me. With a loud blast I jumped ever so slightly at the gunshot, I immediately turned to see Conner with a fresh bullet wound in his leg. "You think I can't shoot? Wanna' bet?" I turned my sights back at Vladimir, gripping my gun even tighter with rage building in my gut. "I'll aim for his head, and if I miss he lives. But, I kill this one." He nodded towards Murphy. "But, if I hit him, this one is all yours."

"I'm not doing this bullshit with you right now Vladimir." I almost hissed at him.

"Well that's just too fucking bad now, isn't it Val? Because let's face it, I'm not walking out of this alive, so I might as well get to have some fun before you put that bullet in my head."

"Or you can just take it like a man and stop this game."

"Sorry Val, but that's just not how it works."

I looked at Murphy, trying to figure out some plan. He could have easily broken out of Vladimir's hold by now, he and I both knew that, but we also knew if he did, Vladimir would shoot Conner without hesitation. I tried my best to think of something, but no matter what the plan it risked either Murphy or Conner's life. I couldn't save both, not confidently. But I could risk my own.

Simultaneously I stepped as I shot. The bullet ripped right into Vladimir's shoulder just after he fired his own gun; but his bullet hit me, not Conner. I stepped just in time to take the bullet in my thigh. I dropped down and watched Murphy push from Vladimir's hold, shoving my brother back and snatching the knife away. Vladimir lost his balance after Murphy pushed him, and fell just a little ways in front of me onto the floors.

He held his shoulder in pain, glaring at me, furious I had out smarted him, "the brains of the operation". "You little slut." He yelled at me.

"Shut your fucking mouth." Murphy yelled at him in Russian, dropping to his knees and punching him in the face. He stood back up, pressing his boot against Vladimir's bullet wound. Vladimir screamed, like a little wimp. "You're lucky," Murphy began, "you're lucky you're not mine to kill or else I'd make it was the most slow and painful experience of whatever was left of your miserable shit life." Murphy stepped off his shoulder, and before stepping away dealt a swift kick to Vladimir's face. "He's all yours Val."

I had never been shot before. It wasn't a feeling I enjoyed. But I had to get through it. I had to stay awake, not pass out. I raised my gun, aiming right for Vladimir's head as he turned to face me. "Look at you, pride of the Volkov family. You're nothing but a filthy traitor. You better hope no one finds out you're still alive. No one leaves this business, not even you. You think you're special, but you're not. You might be father's favorite, but I promise whatever horrors you thought I'd do to you, he'll do something much worse when he gets a hold of you. You're just as dead as me Valentina."

"Fuck you Vladimir."

Those were the last words I said to my brother.

"Fuck you Vladimir."

The last words I said right before I shot a bullet right in the middle of his head.


	7. Chapter Seven

I woke up with the most annoying pain in my lower back. Murphy's claim that the bed was more comfortable than it looked was a bold face lie. I tossed the blankets off me only to be greeted with an uncomfortable chill and was quick to rewrap myself in the warmth. Just because I was Russian didn't mean I was fond of cold weather.

Dragging the comforter off the bed and keeping it wrapped around me I slowly made my move to the living room. I only saw Conner; sitting shirtless in a pair of jeans on the sofa with his feet propped up on the coffee table and a mug of coffee in his hand. He didn't look at me, but he did spare me a mumbled, "Good morning".

"Top of the morning to ya'." I tried my best Irish accent and I heard him muffle a soft laugh.

"There's some fresh coffee." He informed me, taking his feet from the coffee table and leaning forward. "It's fucking terrible, but it's coffee."

"Can't be that bad." I shuffled over to the kitchen and rummaged around for the coffee mugs. Poured myself a little and took a quick swig, almost immediately spitting it back up. "How the hell are you not dead?"

"Tolerance." He answered with a simple chuckle.

"So…" I began to ponder out loud as I made my way over to the arm chair next to e sofa. "Where's Murphy?"

"He went into town to buy you some clothes." Conner answered simply.

"This early?"

"The country that never sleeps." He joked, taking a swig of his coffee.

A rather uncomfortable silence fell over us. It was strange mostly because I knew this wasn't what he wanted. If Conner had it his way I'd be in the ground by now. That was when my interest was rather sparked. I looked up at him as he did his best to avoid eye contact with me and with a soft whimper spoke, "Why didn't you kill me?"

"Why didn't you kill Murphy?" He retorted rather quickly.

"Love at first sight." I joked, laughing a little under my breath as I pulled the blanket tighter around me.

"You know I'd almost believe that." He looked at me now, actually smirking a bit, "But typically you don't stab someone in the leg if you love them."

"I believe in tough love."

"I thought all love was tough."

"You sound like you've been in love a lot."

"Not really..." He mused out loud.

I was desperate to change the subject, not wanting to travel down this obviously awkward road, "How are you not freezing without a shirt on?"

"Shouldn't you be used to the cold?"

"That my friend is a rather vicious stereotype."

"So is thinking all Irishmen say 'top of the morning to ya'." He laughed now without trying to mumble it.

"You know what, I've never actually heard an Irish accent in person before. In moves, yeah, but never like…face to face."

"Is that so?" Conner took another quick swig of his coffee, setting on the table and looking at me with a rather cheese worthy smile, "And how is it?"

"Positively swoon worthy." I tried my best to sound like a gitty little school girl as I dramatically posed my hand across my forehead and we both started to laugh.

"I don't think I've heard an assassin laugh before." He commented once our laughter died down a bit.

"A rare oddity, indeed." I added.

"You don't laugh often? Even on your off days?"

"I don't have off days." I remarked, snickering a little. "Even if I just sit in a room all day, alone in the dark, it's never done. It replays, everything replays."

I saw a certain look in his eyes, one of understanding but at the same time complete disbelief. "How do you do it? Make it through each day with that much blood on your hands?" He asked me not out of curiosity but more in a sense of asking for advice.

"Anyone who says they can kill and sleep perfectly fine at night is damn lair." I began simply. "It might be easier than others to pull the trigger, but taking a life, no matter how many times you've done it, never stops haunting you. I don't know if you could really say I make it through anything. I survive. I'm not happy. I'm not sad. I'm just breathing."

He looked scared in that moment, scared that one day he might become as emotionless and dead on the inside as me. But I wasn't dead. At least, I didn't fully feel that way anymore. I felt a stupid sense of hope, one I couldn't allow myself to get too comfortable with, not with knowing Vladimir was coming. I had to take care of him first, before I could really start to believe any of this was actually achievable.

Murphy came through the front door just then with a bag full of clothes. "Well, looks like prince charming finally kissed Snow White." He commented with a laugh as he walked over to me to hand me the bad. "I don't know how you Russians do it, but here in Ireland we like to rise with the sun."

"What can I say? We Russians are pretty heavy sleepers, must be the aftermath from all the mass amounts of vodka." I rose with the bag in my hand and shuffled over to the bedroom to change.

The clothes Murphy picked up were fairly simply. Jeans and some tee shirts. Nothing fancy really, just enough to dress myself. I slipped on some Levi's, but had to roll the pants legs up since they were a bit too long. Fortunately Murphy had been considerate enough to purchase me a new bra since he threw my other one away last night. I slipped on a plain black tee that was a little baggie but comfortable.

When I went back out into the living room I found Conner had put on a shirt and Murphy had joined him on the sofa with a cup of coffee. "So Ms. Volkov," Murphy began, "How are the clothes?"

"They fit." I commented blankly, returning to the armchair to perch myself.

"Told you I'd find something." Murphy smiled at me.

"Now," Conner cut in, "I believe you have some information for us?"

I took in a deep breath and nodded simply, "Well." I searched my memory. What could I tell them? What would play to their advantage? Everything, really. I told them everything I could possibly think of. I told them about his fear of knives and guns. I told them about how I once watched him crush a man's eyeballs into his skull. I told them about the time he raped our cousin in front of her mother after her father insulted him. I told them about his rigorous daily workout that lasted about five hours. I told them he only drank closed beverages because he had an irrational paranoid of fear of everything being poisoned (which is why he always insisted on watching his food being prepared before he ate it as well). I told them he had broken his wrist several times, and he was on the verge of permanently damaging it if he so much as waved too rough.

I told everything about my brother as it came to mind and I watched their faces as they sat in silence with unreadable expressions just taking it all in. Finally when I stopped a silence fell over us. They both looked down; Conner was the first to say anything, "So how do you beat him?"

"You don't." I was quick to respond. Conner and Murphy both looked up at me with confused eyes, scared eyes, eager eyes. "You kill him before he gets a chance to lay a single finger on you, because if you don't, he will beat you until you're dead. You wait at that door with your guns drawn and shoot him in the fucking face before he can even ring the doorbell. You don't beat Vladimir, you just kill him."


	8. Chapter Eight

We drank. A lot. The boys had made the mistake of saying they could out-drink a Russian. I wasn't having any of that bullshit now.

I bowed out gracefully before I got drunk, keeping it pretty steady right on the edge of tipsy. The boys followed my lead, but admired my ability to "keep up", as if I couldn't handle it or something.

As we drank they told me stories. Stories about growing up, their friends, their lives. They told me how they got into the whole business of murdering bad guys. They told me about how Rocco died. They told me about living in Ireland for eight years, and what brought them back to the states. Mostly they talked about their dad. Their stories were far more better than mine.

Murphy passed out around one in the morning. Head first on the kitchen table, arms and legs just seeming to hang from the chair. Conner and I moved away and into the living room in attempt to give Murphy some quite while he lay there, we'd move him into a bed eventually.

"So, what will you do after we take care of Vladimir?" Conner asked me, sounding genuinely concerned.

"Haven't really thought about it. Have to make it out of this alive first." I commented, leaning back in the arm chair with my knees up to my chest. "But hypothetically, if Vladimir dies and I'm "free to go", so to speak, it won't be too difficult to get started. Wiring money from my bank account without being detected will be a challenge, but once I get that done, it'll be a piece of cake really. Go anywhere I want, be anyone I want. Whole new life, whole new identity. It's very inspiring, isn't it?"

"Sounds like a whole lot more fun than being a sheep herder."

"Never tried sheep herding, for all I know it's a shit ton of fun."

"Shit ton is right." He muffled a laugh, being careful not to wake up Murphy.

That was when I saw it, just the faintest hint of lights coming through the curtains. "Conner." I said his name with all the seriousness I could muster, gaining his attention fairly quickly. "Wake Murphy up." I instructed him. He hopped onto his feet in no time and scurried over to his brother while I moved to the window. I pulled the curtain back ever so slightly, and in the distance I could see headlights.

"How close is he?" Conner asked, without needing any confirmation about what exactly was happening.

"About a mile." I said as I examined the distance, that was when I saw another pair of headlights. "And he's not alone."

"Murphy, get the fuck up." I heard Conner trying to wake Murphy, and Murphy groaned in annoyance.

"Where are your guns?" I asked as I started to shut the nearest lamp off.

"Under the floor in my closet." Conner instructed me just as Murphy was starting to regain consciousness. I ran into Conner's room, swinging open the closet door and looking down to see the latch door. I got out their guns, one for each of them but mine weren't there. I didn't have time to ask about my weapons, only get them theirs. "Under my bed is another latch, the crawl space under there is a lot bigger, you should be able to fit just fine."

"You think I'm going to sit in a crawl space while you-"

"Yes!" Conner cut me off as he took his gun. Murphy was up now, still a little sleepy looking but when I handed him his gun a sense of alert seemed to come over him as he took it. Conner gave Murphy the quick rundown of the situation but I stayed there with them in the kitchen before Conner finally turned to me and said, "Get in the damn crawl space!"

I wanted to punch him, but I knew if Vladimir saw me alive it would complicate the situation. Defeated, I turned to go back into Conner's room but not before Murphy grabbed my arm and pulled me back, "You don't come out of there until we come and get you, no matter what you hear, understand?"

I turned my head to look Murphy in the eyes, he looked so worried, but not for himself. "What if you don't come and get me?" I said this with heavy implications of an unfortunate event.

He smiled at me, trying to seem reassuring I'm sure, "Then I guess you're going to be under there for a long time." Murphy let go of my arm and I dashed into Conner's room. I crawled under the bed and carefully opened the latch to the crawl space up enough to slip right in. It was a tight fit, and it was too dark for comfort. I closed the latch once I was in and curled myself up.

It was quite. The tension was building. The crawl space was so dark, but I could see tiny itty bitty rays of light ahead of me; light from the kitchen coming through the floorboards. I maneuvered myself onto my stomach and "solider crawled" across the dirt floor of the crawl space over near where the light was. I couldn't see really, but I could hear.

"You awake yet?" I heard Conner's voice.

"Enough." Murphy responded.

"Better fucking be."

Then silence. Then I heard the familiar sounds of doors being kicked in. I heard the boots stomp across the floor, from both the back and front door. I heard shouting in Russian, at least three different voices (none were Vladimir). Then guns; then bodies dropping. I only heard two bodies drop. I heard Conner shout, "Fuck!" Then I heard another thud against the floor. More gun fire. More shouting. It all happened so quickly. Then another set of footsteps. These were slow, but heavy. It was Vladimir. I heard two more thuds against the floor, but they didn't sound like bodies, more just like two men being forced onto their knees.

"Where is she?" I heard Vladimir asked in such a bone chilling tone.

"Who?" Murphy spoke first.

I heard something, a quick shuffle then a gasp followed by a loud smack; Vladimir probably punched Murphy. "Like you don't fucking know!" Vladimir shouted now.

"Was she your girlfriend?" Murphy egged him on. "She was pretty, too pretty for you."

Another punch to the face by the sounds of it. "Fuck you Irish jerk off." Vladimir always was one for colorful terms.

"We killed her." Conner commented.

"Like hell you did." A different voice spoke with a thick Russian accent.

"Shot her in the fucking head." Either Conner or Murphy responded back, I couldn't tell which.

There was another silence. Silence wasn't good, not in this situation. I couldn't do this. I couldn't sit in this crawl space and listen while my brother killed Conner and Murphy. I moved as fast as I could to crawl back to the latch under the bed, and pulled myself back up out of the crawl space. As quietly as I could, I tip-toed over to the door of Conner's bedroom, which had been left cracked open ever so slightly. There wasn't much I could see, but what I could was Conner on his knees and one of Vladimir's associates with a gun to Conner's head.

"If she's dead then where's the body?" Vladimir asked, the twins remained silent. I heard another loud smack, and could see anger building in Conner's eyes. "You tell me or I beat the shit out this little prick here." Vladimir insisted.

I backed up a little, I couldn't wait any longer. Going with my first instinct, I ran out. I swung the door wide open and stumbled out of Conner's room. I breathed heavily and hunched over, putting my hands on my knees. "Vlad…" I whispered as I pretended to catch my breath.

"Val?" My brother's voice seemed shocked.

I looked up now to get a better look at the situation. Sure enough Murphy was on his knees at Vladimir's side, he looked swollen and beaten just from a few punches; after all, that was just how strong Vladimir was. Behind Vladimir and Murphy were two dead bodies. "They tied me up," I spoke to Vladimir in Russian, "Kept me under the crawlspace. They can't tie a knot worth a damn." I looked at both their faces; Murphy seemed fairly understanding of the situation, like he knew where I was going with this. Conner on the other hand, was less pleased. I could see the distrust and anger all across his face, as if he thought I was about to betray them.

"You bitch!" Conner finally busted out, only to have Vladimir's associate punch him so hard in the side of his head he fell over onto the floor.

The associate pointed the barrel of his gun at Conner's head and said to me, "Ms. Volkov," finishing in Russian, "Do you want me to shoot this son of a bitch?"

"Hell no." I answered in Russian. I walked over to where Conner laid on the ground, standing in front of him and looking down at him. "I want to kill this prick myself." I looked up at the other man Vladimir had brought and he handed me his gun without hesitation. I looked back down at Conner and as his eyes furiously glared at me I gave him one quick simple look of reassurance while I aimed the gun point blank at his head. I looked back over my shoulder at Vladimir, then at Murphy. I didn't need to say anything, didn't even need to nod. Murphy understood. I watched as Murphy lifted himself up off the ground and punched Vladimir in the cheek and in that same instant I turned my sights to the associate and shot him in the middle of his chest, next in the head. I turned quickly, keeping my gun ready to fire on a moment's notice, and saw Vladimir strike Murphy down so hard that when he fell I thought for a second he might never get up again.

Vladimir drew a knife from his belt, holding it up in defense. I saw the confusion and anger in his eyes as he looked at me. Me, his sister, protecting her once target from the murderous ways of her torturing brother. We both looked at each other with a simple understanding; an understanding that one of us was about to die.


	9. Chapter Nine

I didn't remember much after I shot Vladimir in the head. I remember hearing Murphy shout my name, and Conner rolling me over onto my back. Then I passed out. I woke up in Murphy's bed and was greeted by a pounding headache. I was sweating and tossed the blankets onto the floor. As I sat up I realized I was only wearing an oversized tee and undergarments, no pants. That was when I had remembered I had been shot. I looked at my thigh and the wound had been treated and wrapped.

There was a pair of pajama pants on the end of the bed and I carefully put them on while remaining on the bed. I could wiggle my toes and all that jazz so I assumed I retained function of my legs and made the brave decision to step out of bed. I stumbled as soon as I got both feet on the ground and fell right for the dresser. I caught myself on the dresser from falling but made a rather bumping noise in the process. I heard footsteps then, shuffling towards the door and saw Murphy as he flung the bedroom door open. "Val?" He said my name in concern as he took in the sight of me barely standing and holding myself up by the dresser.

"I'm fine." I tried to reassure him, but that didn't stop him from rushing to my side and wrapping his arms around him. He pulled me off the dresser and started to slowly move back as I moved forward.

"Is she ok?" I heard Conner shouting from the living room.

"Well she's alive!" Murphy stated as we moved through the doorway. I could see Conner now on the couch, his leg propped up and head leaned back. "Which seems to be more than I can say for you."

"Very fucking funny." Conner mumbled while Murphy further assisted me over to the armchair.

After Murphy helped me down into the armchair he took a seat on the far side of the couch, grabbing a burning cigarette from a nearby ashtray. A comfortable silence fell over use three, a silence I was the first to break, "Who treated my wounds?"

"We phoned a friend." Conner answered me before taking a swig from his coffee cup he had been holding.

"The bodies?" I asked another question.

"We phoned another friend." Murphy said with a pretty stern face.

I wanted to ask about Vladimir, about what exactly they did with his body, but I had more important things on my mind. I looked at Conner, who had been careful to avoid my eye contact. "You really thought I was going to shoot you, didn't you?"

He sighed heavily and carefully repositioned himself, bringing his leg down from the couch to rest both his feet on the floor as he leaned forward and placed his coffee cup on the coffee table. He put his elbows on his knees, cupping his hands together and resting his thumbs against his forehead as he looked down at his feet. "To be honest, yes. Yes I did."

"You son of a bitch." Murphy mumbled, "She saved your life!"

"And I never said I didn't appreciate that! But can you honestly blame me for not trusting an assassin who just a few days before was trying to murder us in our sleep! You can't seriously tell me that just for a second you thought she was about to-"

"No because I never thought that, even for a second Conner." Murphy seemed irritated, more so than me. Yeah, I was hurt that Conner thought so little of me but Murphy was straight up enraged by it. "She took a God damn bullet for you!"

"For which I am grateful!"

"Don't tell me you jackass!" Murphy stood up, after quite violently putting his cigarette out, and made his way for his bedroom.

I stayed still, and in silence, in the armchair now alone with Conner in the living room as Murphy slammed his bedroom door shut. Conner looked up at me, his eyes full of apology but I could tell he lacked the proper wording for what he wanted to say. "It's ok." I assured him with a soft voice, "I wouldn't have trusted you if the situation had been reversed."

"He's right you know. I am a jackass. You took a bullet for me, you shot your own brother for me, and I didn't trust you."

"But…you do now?"

"How could I not?"

"Then it doesn't matter what you thought then. Only what you think now." I stood up carefully, wobbling a little as I did. "Besides, I didn't just kill Vladimir for you, I did it for me too. The bullet I could have done without, but the way I see it we're even now. You spared my life and I saved yours."

"Val," Conner began as he tried to stand to his feet. It happened pretty quickly; I don't know why he decided to try to stand so fast, but when he did he instantly fell forward but I was pretty swift to lunged forward and catch him in my arms. However I knew my upper body strength was enough to hold him up on my own with my bad balance so I made a pretty split second decision to slam all my body weight against him and basically tackle him back down onto the couch. I heard the leg of the couch sort of scratch against the hard floor from the impact of both our bodies slamming down, and we landed pretty awkwardly with myself on top of him. My face was buried against the skin of his neck, my arms wrapped up around him and his own arms holding on to me. I landed basically in his lap and I was quick to swing my legs off him and search for the floor beneath me. I finally lifted my head, trying to avoid eye contact. I could feel my face burning a deep red blush and I was too afraid to look at him.

"Sorry…" I mumbled as I finally stood back onto my feet, separating myself from Conner. He said nothing back to me, not like I thought he would, and I made a fairly awkward exit as I hobbled on my own out to the back door from the kitchen.

Outside it was peaceful. Calm. Like nothing ever happened. Like I didn't just shoot my brother in the head and fall on top of Conner McManus. I sat on an old lawn chair out by the back door and watched the early morning light the sky as a soft fog started to evaporate from over the grass. To my surprise I found myself dwelling the safety of the McManus brothers. My situation seemed so easy really, like a cake walk actually. Theirs was less optimistic. I hadn't lied when I told them no one from my family would seek revenge, or when I assured them no other assassin sent by the Italians would find them. Yet even though I had been so assured of their safety before, now I doubted myself. It was silly, pointless really, because they were grown men who were perfectly capable of protecting themselves…but then again they did need me to save their sorry asses from Vladimir, and they actually knew he was coming.

The idea of leaving them felt so strange. I knew it was what needed to be done. After all, I didn't belong here. But to simply move on with my life like none of this affected me when in fact it was the entire reason I still had a life to live on my own accord seemed like such madness to me. But again, I didn't belong here. This was their homes, their lives to live, not mine. Just like they started over, now I would have to. I hadn't really allowed myself to put too much thought on it since the last few days I was preparing for the worst case scenario, but now I could. Now I was free to choose the life I truly wanted to live, after an entire lifetime of being told how to live. The thought truly petrified me, mostly because I really wanted to just stay here.


	10. Chapter Ten

I rode in my rental car with Murphy while he drove; Conner drove an old pickup trailing behind us. We were dropping the rental back off at the farm house where I first spent the night when I got in to town, not giving my father's employee's any reason to come looking for it and finding the MacManus brother's. Murphy was awkwardly quite the bulk of the drive; I just figured he was still pissed at Conner for yesterday. Finally, he spoke, "You don't have to go, ya' know."

"No, I really think I do." I insisted.

"And where will you go, what will you do?" He argued.

"First I need to stop off and see an old friend in Paris. He'll be able to help me make all the arrangements I need to disappear completely. He specializes in that sort of thing, helping people end one life and start a new one."

"And how do you know him?"

"My family has a contract with him. There has been more than a few occasions when a target went through him and we had a difficult time locating them. He tells us if they've "relocated", as he calls it, and gives us everything we need to know on how to find them."

"He sells out his customers and you think you can trust him?"

"The difference is, those people were our targets and we were looking for them. No one will be looking for me, not without reason. Besides, I know I can trust him just fine."

"And how is that?"

"He was my fiancé'."

"Was?" Murphy seemed intrigued now.

"It ended about a year ago."

"Why?"

"We had been seeing each other for about two years, we kept it a secret because I wasn't sure how my father would react. He asked me to marry him and we made the decision to tell my father. My father insisted to me it was a terrible idea, although he never told me he disapproved. He simply told me I was too young, and at the peak of my career and was disappointed in me for being more concerned with things such as love. So I ended it, because killing people was more important to me than the man I loved."

Silence fell between us again, but only for a moment before Murphy spoke up, "Will you stay with him?"

"No. It would be far too risky. Besides, I doubt he'd even ask me to."

"Would you say yes if he did?"

"I don't know." I answered bluntly.

"But I'm asking and you're saying no."

"Because you're not asking, you're suggesting."

"Then consider this me, formally asking you, to stay." I looked over at Murphy, and he glanced at me briefly before turning his attention back to the road. "I mean, you're not going anywhere until that leg is healed up better anyway, so you could at least think about it for a while. So will you, think about it that is?"

"Why?" I asked him without hesitation. "Why do you want me to stay?"

"I don't know, honestly. There's just something about the idea that feels right to me. Like, it's what you're supposed to do."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do Murphy."

After we got to the farm house I didn't take anything from it, I figured if anything were missing it'd seem suspicious. Murphy and I piled into the pickup with Conner, I say in the center and we rode pretty much in silence. We stopped by a general goods store so I could pick up some shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and an extra few sets of clothes.

I offered to make the boys dinner that night when we got back to their farm house. I made them one of my favorite classic Russian, beet soup with pumpernickel bread. "My mother used to make this for me," I told them as they hovered me in the kitchen, "On summer nights when I was younger after I was out all day playing. Then she'd give me a bubble bath and let me sleep with her in her when my father was out of town. I always loved the smell of the shampoo, and when I slept with her I could always smell it after she'd take her nightly shower." After we ate, they cleaned up the kitchen while I took a shower. We spent the rest of the night drinking and playing various card games. Again, Murphy was the first pass out.

Conner and I sat on the couch, our wounded legs propped up on the coffee table and we shared a bottle of whiskey. We didn't really talk once Murphy passed out in the armchair, just silently handed the bottle off back and forth and took swigs. But Conner, like his brother, had a habit of breaking silences. "What are you going to do now?"

"I don't know yet." I answered simply as I handed him the whiskey bottle. "Murphy wants me to stay."

"Of course he does." Conner sort of chuckled under his breath.

"And why do you say that?"

"No reason." He insisted, and I let it go. "Do you want to stay?"

"I don't think it'd be a smart decision given the circumstances."

"That's not what I asked you."

"But that's the answer I gave you." I looked at him, he looked at me. "It doesn't really matter what I want, it's about what's best." He didn't argue, only gave me a look of understanding as he tried to pass me the whiskey. I shook my head and stood up, "No thank you. I think I'm going to head to bed. Goodnight Conner."

"Val," I heard Conner say my name as I shuffled across the hardwood floors over to the bedroom door. I looked back at him as he stood up from the couch, taking a quick swig of the whiskey, "You know you could, stay here I mean, if you really wanted to."

I couldn't help but smile at him and nod, "I know Conner."

He smiled back, "Goodnight Val." And sat back down on the couch as I went to bed for the night.


	11. Chapter Eleven

I could almost hear Conner and Murphy breathing so heavy outside the bedroom door; like they just ran a marathon. The doctor was looking at my leg; apparently he had been the one who fixed it up for me to begin with. I remained perfectly still, looking up at the ceiling. Every so often I'd steal a glance of him as he examined the wound. Finally, he spoke, "Well, you're recovering much quicker than I had imagined." He commented bluntly as he redressed the wound. "How does your leg feel?"

"It stings a little after I stand up, but I can walk without a limp now." I answered truthfully.

"It shouldn't take you much longer at all." The doctor said to me.

"How much longer before I'm well enough to travel?"

"Travel?" He mused out loud for a moment as he gathered up his things. "Well, I suppose a few days, but if you're really up to it now, I can't say you're not in good enough health to manage a trip."

"Really?" I let the thought sink in. To be honest I had hoped he would have told me another month, just to use as an excuse to stay a bit longer. But now it was starting to hit me; I was leaving the farmhouse.

"Just stay safe, mam'." The doctor gave him a little wave before he left, and when he opened the door Conner and Murphy almost fell through the doorway. "Boys." The doctor chuckled as he walked by the twins.

Conner hopped back up as quickly as he could, almost pushing Murphy back down against the floor in the process. "So, what's the verdict?" Conner asked me first.

"All good." I said simply as I swung by leg off the bed and rolled my shorts back down over my thigh. "Everything seems fine, he said I could get going."

"What?" Murphy was the first to shout.

"Yeah. He said it's healing pretty well, so I should be good to travel."

"So, you're leaving?" Conner followed up.

"Well, if you don't mind, I'd like to pack and rest for the night then get going in the morning."

I looked closely at their faces, both with looks of shock, confusion, and mild hints of sadness. Conner spoke to me first, "Of course you can stay tonight…" His voice trailed off and based on Murphy's face I thought he was going to punch Conner right there.

"You can't be serious?" Murphy looked at Conner then at me, "You're going to leave?"

"Murphy, I told you-"

"Forget it." Murphy turned his back to me and fled from the room as swiftly as possible.

I wanted to run after him, but Conner gave me a look that suggested I just let him go. He walked over to me and sat by my side on the bed, lowering his head. "Let him cool off." He spoke to me softly, looking over at me. "He'll come to understand, eventually."

"So, you're not going to ask me to stay?"

"What good would it do? You've already made up your mind. Besides, it'd be better if you went." I looked over at Conner and he sort of smirked at me. "Don't get me wrong, I wish you'd stay. And let's face it; we both know you want to stay. But, we both also know you can't for obvious reasons. Not to mention it would only complicate things even more with Murphy."

"Complicate things? What things?"

"Don't act like you haven't noticed Val." He sort of laughed. "I've sure as hell noticed. The way he looks at you, I've never seen him look at anyone like that before."

"Conner, I think you're overreacting."

"Either that or you feel it too." He whispered.

"What?"

"Can you look me in the eye and tell me you don't feel a connection with Murphy?" Conner looked up at me and I wanted to slap him clear across his face.

"Of course not." I insisted.

He looked down at his lap and whispered again, "Then…is it me?"

"What?" I asked him, leaning a bit closer to him, "What was that?" He turned his head back towards me; I hadn't realized how closed I had moved towards him until his nose was almost touching mine. His eyes caught mine and I didn't even see him move his hand until his fingertips touched my jaw. "Conner?" I didn't even realize I had whispered his name until I saw the look in his eyes, the look he gave me just before he kissed me. I wanted to shove him away and slap him clear across his face, but I didn't. I let him kiss me.

He backed away from me, and I felt his fingers leave my face. "Is it me?" He said again now, a little louder.

"Conner…" I said his name again, leaning a bit further from him. "I'm sorry but…"

"Never mind. Kind of a long shot anyway." He stood up and didn't really hesitate before leaving, and that's when the guilt started to set in.

I sat there for a moment and just sort of processed the moment. I threw myself back against the bed, staring up at the ceiling. I needed to leave, Conner made that painfully obvious. Me staying would definitely complicate things, now more than ever.


	12. Chapter Twelve

I dressed in a simple pair of jeans and black tee. My hair was starting to get long, I could almost get even the shorter back layers up into a pony tail holder now; it had been too long since my last hair cut. I packed what little things I had acquired while staying with the twins in a case Conner had picked up for me last night. Just as I was folding everything perfectly into the case there was a soft knock at the door and before I could answer, Murphy crept inside the room and shut the door silently behind him.

He had one hand in a pocket, the other hand awkwardly scratching the back of his head as he shifted his eyes around the room. "Val…" He mumbled a little under his breath before he cleared his throat, "Val," He said my name again more clearly now. His eyes looked up at me now, he had a face of defeat. "This is really happening, isn't it? You're actually leaving."

"Murphy, you have to realize how dangerous it would be for me to stay. I'm doing this to protect you and Conner." I insisted as I started to zip up the case.

"But if you stayed we could protect each other!" He tried to argue. "I mean how do you know you can really trust this…this…"

"Bastian. His name is Bastian." I sighed softly as I sat the case down on the ground and lifted up the handle.

"Bastian." He sort of rolled his eyes. "I mean, you did break up with him, right? So, what if he isn't exactly all too happy to see you?"

"Murphy." I gave him a stern look. "I need to do this."

"But you don't want to." He continued.

"That's not the point."

"That's the exact point!" He threw his arms up in the air and turned his back to me. I let the silence set in as I watched his posture sort of slump and he dropped his arms. "I just…was starting to get used to having you around, is all." I heard him sigh heavily before turning back to face me. "Did you ever even consider it Val?"

"Of course I did Murphy." I sighed and walked a bit closer to him. "Please, don't make this harder than it already has to be."

I saw his eyes shift down, and I followed his gaze as he reached forward to take a hold of my hand. "You do want to stay, don't you?"

"Yes." I answered almost immediately. "I would if I could Murphy, but I can't and I know you that you know that."

"Are you about ready?" I heard Conner asked as he walked in the room. My eyes shot over to him as he caught the sight of Murphy holding my hand. I snapped my arm back away from Murphy and grabbed the handle of my case as I dragged it behind me.

We piled into the truck as we headed towards a private airport. The ride was pretty awkwardly silent, the only noise really coming from the sound of my case shifting around the back bed of the trunk. We arrived at the airport and Conner carried my case for me as they lead me to a small private jet. Conner talked with the captain, going over all the arrangements while Murphy showed me into the jet.

"I can't believe this is happening." Murphy mumbled under his breath. "I finally meet someone that I can't keep."

"What?" I looked at him as I packed my case up into one of the overhead compartments of the jet.

"You heard me." He said, a little more demanding with his tone.

"I thought we already went over this." I sort of snapped at him. "This decision is difficult enough already without you and Conner complicating it even more!"

"Conner?" I saw something in his eyes. Even though I hadn't said it, he somehow knew. "What has Conner said?"

I couldn't look at him; I set my gaze down on my feet. "He hasn't said anything." I answered with a hushed voice. "Conner…he…kissed me." I looked up to see such a look of hurt on Murphy's face, like he couldn't believe it yet at the same time like he was completely expecting it.

"You all set? Captain is about ready to head out." Conner shouted to us as he came up into the jet. I saw a flash of anger on Murphy's face before he turned to face his brother. "Murph?" Conner seemed shocked to see his brother in such a look of fury.

"You kissed her?" Murphy shouted at his brother.

Conner looked past Murphy, glaring now at me, "You told him?"

"Don't act like this is her fault!" Murphy stepped in front of Conner's gaze, blocking me from seeing Conner. "You kissed her, when you knew how I felt?" Conner was speechless. I couldn't see either of their faces. The tension in the air was so awkward; I wanted to be anywhere, anywhere but on that jet. Murphy looked back at me, his eyes so…sad. "I hope you're happy in Paris." Murphy shoved past his brother and left us both their on the jet.

Conner looked at me with a painful glare in his eyes, "Why did you tell him! Do you not realize what you've done! This is why I want you gone! You just fuck everything up! Everything was fine before you tried to fucking kill us, now my brother hates me because you had to come along and confuse him like this!"

"How the fuck is this my fault?" I shouted right back at him.

"Fucking forget it. Just go, get the fuck out and stay away from us." I wanted to think he didn't mean that, that he was just saying it out of anger, but the look Conner gave me before he stormed off the jet was too intense and convincing.

I stood there, just dumfounded, and before I knew it I felt an unfamiliar sting in my eyes. I was crying. "Miss Volkov?" I heard the captain of the jet say my name as he boarded the jet. I turned my head away quickly and just pretended like I was securing my case as he continued to talk to me, "We'll be taking off soon. The weather is pretty perfect for flying. I'll make the flight as quick and comfortable as possible, so if you could go ahead and take your seat I'll get us headed out."

"Ok." I managed to choke out. Once I heard his footsteps as he disappeared into the cockpit I turned back around to take my seat. I looked out the window, out at Conner and Murphy arguing by the truck on the tarmac. I shut the blind down on the window and relaxed back in my seats. I didn't even wipe my eyes, I just let the tears fall slowly but surely. I was leaving the twins, and this didn't make it any easier.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Since my landing in Paris I had gone into a little bit of a remodel mode. I stop by some boutiques, picked up some more befitting clothes. Heels, stylishly pencil skirts, fashionable blouses, and of course accessories to match. Next came the make-up, haircut, and manicure. I had forgotten how much I loved spending money. Thankfully I traveled with large sums of cash and was able to contact a distant friend who was able to wire me some more to support my love for an expensive wardrobe and well equipped five star hotels.

I was able to get a hold of a few other associates who were able to point me in the right direction on my search for Bastian. Bastian had always had a fondness for the finer things, so upon the arrival of what I was assured was his latest penthouse apartment I wasn't all too shocked when I saw lavish decorations and expensive art pieces. "Mr. Duval will see you now mam'." A slim, blonde, female assistant said to me as she came from the other room. She directed me towards a large decorated set of double doors that I confidently walked through.

The room I walked into was an office, very spacious with floor to ceiling bookshelves stocked with every genre of literature one could imagine. The lighting was dim, most coming from an unusually bright desk lamp. The desk was large and well organized, with a figure sitting behind it. The figure, who I assumed to be Bastian, was sitting in a rolling office chair with the back of the chair facing towards me and looking towards the view through the large bay windows. I said nothing, simply made my way over to a leather loveseat near the center of the room. "My assistant said you gave Buttercup as your name." I heard Bastian's heavy French accent say to me just before he turned around his chair to face me. Bastian always had a rather young face, and the most striking pair of deep blue eyes I had ever seen. Bastian was a clean shaven man with thick locks of well trimmed jet black hair. He had high cheek bones that used to make me swoon with an equally adorable smirk that would make me melt. I watched him carefully as he opened a drawer from his desk and pulled out an old copy of The Princess Bride; our favorite book, where I got the reference of "Buttercup" from. He dropped the book on his desk and stood from his seat, straightening his tie.

"Your assistant is pretty, how long have you been fucking her?" I insisted as I relaxed a bit on the couch.

"What makes you think I'm fucking her?" He smirked as he moved over to a table where he kept an assortment of liquors.

"She's at your penthouse at eleven o' clock at night, not to mention while you're single you have a habit of keeping attractive female assistants. As I recall, when we were together your assistant was a rather lovely gay American boy."

"Jonathan. He was a wonderful violinist." Bastian commented as he poured some scotch into two crystal glasses. "So, you must be in some pretty deep shit if you're using Buttercup." He commented as he made his way over to me. He joined me on the loveseat, handing me the scotch as he put his arm around my shoulder.

Very casually I stood to my feet, separating myself from Bastian as I took a sip of my scotch. "I find myself in need of your services."

"Is that so?" Bastian chuckled as he sipped his scotch. "And whatever has lead the great Valentina Volkov to my door?"

"Change of heart." I stated simply, not wanting to give away too many details. "My family thinks I'm dead, and I need it to stay that way."

"Did you have anything in mind?"

"I've always heard Chicago is a great city for art and art lovers. I'd love to open a gallery, maybe even a theatre there."

"Name?"

"I figured you could think of something creative for me?"

"You do look like an Alberta."

"Alberta?" I snickered as I started to move closer to the bookshelves, looking across the book titles.

"You know if you're father comes looking for you, my contract…"

"He won't. He has no reason to think I'm alive." I reassured Bastian.

"Well…" Bastian began as he stood up and moved closer to my side. "I could get something ready for you, cover some bases, but I'll need a few days to pull some strings. Think you can manage a few extra days in Paris?"

"I should be able to handle that." I mumbled as I downed the rest of my scotch.

"Where are you staying?" He asked, his interest making me a tad uneasy.

"A hotel." I answered, vaguely of course.

"Nonsense." He took my empty glass from me as he moved back over to the table with the liquors. "I'll have someone sent to your hotel and gather your things, you can stay with me."

"That really won't be necessary Bastian." I insisted, following behind him intensely. "It's not like I'm in some flea bag motel or anything. I can handle myself for a few more days."

"There's no reason for you to spend money on a hotel when you can just stay here. If it's your safety you're concerned about, I can assure you there's no safer place in Paris. Besides, if for any reason your father does have reason to suspect you're alive, this would be the last place he'd even think to look for you. Please Valentina, I must insist. I'll have Kristie prepare a room for you." Before I could object Bastian called Kristie's name and without hardly a second to pass the pretty blonde assistant made her way back into the room. "Kristie, call Keith and have him go to Ms. Buttercup's hotel to gather her things, and show her to the guestroom."

A saw a look of slightly jealous flash across Kristie's face as she glanced over at me before speaking a soft, "Of course Mr. Duval." in French. "Please," she now spoke in English, "Follow me Ms. Buttercup." She gestured for me to follow as she left the room.

I looked over at Bastian and sighed softly, "Do you ever take no for any answer?"

"Funny…" He began to muse, "The last time you said that to me, I was putting a diamond on your finger."

"Goodnight Bastian." I rolled my eyes at him as I caught back up with Kristie as she led me away to the guest room.

"I'll bring some fresh towels to the guest bathroom and extra pillows for the bed if you'd like Ms. Buttercup." Kristie pulled out a cell phone and began to text, "What hotel are you staying in so I can send Keith over to retrieve your belongings?"

"Le Meurice, in the belle etolie royal suite."

"Yes Ms. Buttercup, I'll notify him at once. I'll go grab you those towels now so you can shower." Her voice was very monotone, clearly unhappy with my extended stay as she opened a near door to us. "I do certainly hope you enjoy your time here, Ms. Buttercup."


	14. Chapter Fourteen

My head was pounding and I felt like at any moment I was going to vomit; drugged, for sure. My eyes were opened, but I couldn't see; there was something over my eyes. I could hear two different sets of breathing patterns, as well as water dropping against the floor-there was a ceiling leak. It was cold and smelt of rotting flesh. It didn't take me long to reach the conclusion that I was in one of the underground facilities my father and brother used to "extract" information from targets before killing them. I heard a door opened, large and metal in material more than likely, and the familiar steps made by my father's favorite pair of John Lobb dress shoes.

"It's funny really," My father spoke in Russian, "I had your funeral just a few days ago and yet here you sit Valentina." My father snapped a finger and the blindfold was taken from my eyes. My vision was blurry at first, even though it wasn't exactly bright in the little hole he kept me in. I could barely make out my father's figure as he stood there, but I could definitely smell the cigar he was smoking and couldn't hold back the vomit from the burning sensation in my nose. From my senses overwhelmed reactions it was safe to assume I had been drugged and most likely kept so for a few days. "You can imagine my heartbreak when Mr. Duval contacted me and informed me that my daughter, my crown jewel, was in fact alive and attempting to…what was that word he uses?"

"Relocate." I answered as I coughed up more vomit.

"Vengeful fellow that Mr. Duval character. You know, he's the one who drugged you, in case you hadn't already guessed. Gave us a pretty heavy supply to continue using. Bastard wanted to see you suffer. Can't say I didn't agree with him. After all, you did fake your death and kill my only son."

"Vladimir would have killed me."

"And you would have deserved it." My father screamed as he lunged forward to backhand me across my face. My hands weren't tied, I could have easily hit back, except the drugs made me feel like a noodle and with every movement I risked vomiting again. "You are an embarrassment to our family!"

"I am the pride of this family!" I tried to shout back without vomiting again; I failed.

"Now look at you. Drugged out of your mind and covered in your own waste, and for what? Those two sad excuses for killers." Of course Bastian had told my father about the twins, I wasn't sure why I thought he hadn't. But he had. "You will pay Valentina, pay for the shame you have brought me and this heart of mine you have broken."

"What heart?" I commented. "What kind of heart must you have? To raise your daughter to be nothing more than a killer and to punish her when she stops earning you a profit. You have no heart to break."

"And do you think you do?" He almost laughed. "You, who can kill a man easier than anyone on this Earth, you can take a life without second thought and sleep a full nine hours without so much as a twitch. You were born to kill Valentina, do you think you have any more heart than me?" We fell silent as we looked at each other; my vision was starting to clear up and I could see my father's old tired face more clearly as he glared at me with such an intensity in his eyes. "If she cries…" He began, now taking to the two men in the room with us, "beat her harder. If she screams, beat her harder. Just don't kill her. Not yet." My father left on these instructions, slamming the door shut behind him.

The two men then approached me with no rude comments or remarks, they let their actions to all the talking for them. One snatched the chair from under me while the other punched me in the jaw. They broke the chair over my body after I fell to the ground and the proceeded to kick me in the face, ribs, and gut. One kneeled down to punch me continuously across my face alternating between his left and right fist. They picked me up and forced me to turn around in circled and vomit from the dizziness just before slamming my body up against the wall and twisting my arm so hard behind my back I thought they'd break it. When they were done they slammed me back into the ground and injected me with another dose of drugs before dumping a bucket of freezing cold water on me, then left me in the darkness. I never screamed. I didn't cry. I took it all, and once they were gone I remained still and silent in the freezing basement thinking it was only a matter of time before my father got his hands on the twins.

It went on for a few more days, it was hard for me to really keep track. They would come in, beat me, drug me, dump the cold water on me, and then leave me in the darkness. They didn't feed me. Give me anything to drink. Just beat me. When they would come back they'd always flash a bright light in my face that burned my eyes and made me vomit from the drugs; but at this point it was way more like dry heaving since I had no food in my stomach to really throw up. But one day there was no light. Just the familiar sound of John Lobb dress shoes.

"I've brought you a present." My father spoke in English, which sent chills down my spine. I already knew what he was going to bring through the door. He snapped his fingers, and his two men who had spent the last few days beating me to a bloody pulp walked in with two others with black bags over their heads. The men forced the two captives on their knees; their hands were tied behind their backs. My father snapped again, and to my horror I watched as the bags were removed from over the heads of the McManus brothers. "Don't worry, they're in good health, barely harmed really. Although, I obviously can't say the same for you. I just thought I'd bring them by, give them a front row seat to the show."

"What show?" I asked, trying to keep my focus away from the twins, afraid I might cry if I looked at them.

"Oh, we'll get to that." He insisted as he stepped closer to me, kneeling down to meet my eyes. "You were my favorite Valentina. Not at first, I admit. I was crushed when the doctor told me you were a girl. Then when Vladimir proved himself a sad excuse for a killer, I thought all hope was lost. If it wasn't for the ovarian cancer, your mother would have kept having babies until she finally produced me a son with some worth, but then you rose to the occasion. I showed you off, made sure the whole world feared you. You proved yourself to me and for that I loved you more than my only son, and how do you repay me? By trying to disappear after murdering your brother for these two dumb fucks." My father stood up, straightening out his suit jacket as he looked to the twins. "Do you want to know how we caught them so damn easily? Marco, tell her." My father instructed to one of the men holding a gun to Conner's head.

The one who began to speak, Marco, put his gun back in his holster as he stepped closer to me, "We told them you sent us." He spoke in Russian. "We said you wanted them to join you in Paris. They were so excited. This one," He pointed to Conner, "Didn't believe us at first, but the other convinced him. Said he wanted a chance to apologize."

I looked at them now, at Conner and Murphy with gags tied around their mouths as they looked at me with sorrowful eyes. "You're going to finish your assignment Valentina." My father spoke to me in Russian. "You are going to kill these two." As my father spoke to me, Marco grabbed a handful of hair and jerked my head back. "But first, we're going to let them see what horrors they've caused. We're going to let them see what the Volkov does to those who betray us, and they're going to know it's all because of them."


	15. Chapter Fifthteen

"Good morning Ms. Buttercup." Kristie's annoyed voice woke me up as she drew the curtains back from the windows and let the sunlight flood the room. "Mr. Duval is out on some business, but wishes you join him for lunch." I sat up in the bed and noticed a rather long package on the foot of the bed that I almost kicked off when I stretched my legs. "A gift." Kristie informed me. "Be ready by eleven and a car will take you to the restaurant." She instructed me, being careful not to make eye contact with me. Before I even had time to object, she fled from the room.

I got up and stretched a little, took a shower and shaved my legs, then found myself staring at the package on the bed with curiosity and hesitation. I plucked off the large and unnecessary bow, untied the ribbon, and lifted the lid of the box to find a lovely little sun dress with matching shoes and clutch purse. I debated whether or not to really go, but Bastian had a negative way of dealing with rejection. I slipped on the dress and styled my hair and makeup for the occasion. If I was going to keep Bastian quite about me being alive and get him to help me, I needed to stay on his good side whether I wanted to go to lunch with him or not.

The car took me to a little café spot I had honestly never heard of before but had a good line of people waiting to get in. The driver opened the door for me, and a man from inside the café rushed to me and bowed graciously to me before taking my head to lead me inside. He took me to a private room in the back of the café, where Bastian was waiting for me with a bottle of Romanée-Conti- my favorite wine.

"You look lovely." He greeted me as he stood from his seat to embrace me softly. I returned his hug but was quick to break the hold. "I trust Kristie was kind to you?"

"Do you honestly expect her to be?" I joked as I took my seat. Bastian poured the wine and handed me my glass which I let rest in my grasp for a moment as I looked at him with a questioning gaze. "There's a reason you wanted me here, isn't there?"

"Well." He sighed before taking a single sip of his wine. "I must admit Valentina, I'm intrigued."

"Is that so?" I asked just before taking a sip from my glass.

"What could possibly have made the greatest killer on earth decide to stop killing? There must be one hell of a story behind that, and I'm just dying to hear it."

And so my great mental debate began; to trust Bastian with the full truth of the situation, or not. The professional in me argued against it. It was too risky to give the entire details, especially to Bastian. I knew I could trust him, but in actuality I didn't. It was more or less a feeling that I could, despite all signs telling me I couldn't. After all, Bastian Duval did make a fortune off of selling out his customer's to the Volkov family. But he did keep our relationship a secret for so long, and we had been so close. If I couldn't trust Bastian, who could I trust? Murphy…I thought briefly. Murphy and Conner. But it was foolish of me to think that, to think about them. They were gone; I was out of their lives. That chapter had ended, and this one had begun. But then I thought, my chapter with Bastian was long over. My time with him was ago and after the way it all ended, could I still trust him? All these thoughts rushed through my mind and bombarded me at once.

Bastian sat his glass on the table and leaned forward a bit; giving me a look I hadn't seen in years from his eyes. "I know it must be a heavy secret for you carry Valentina, but you don't have to do it alone." It was the same look he gave me when we first confessed our love for each other. We knew we would be in danger if anyone found out, but we didn't care about the risk. All we cared about was the truth, the truth we could no longer keep from one another.

"Have you ever heard of the McManus brothers?" And then I told him everything. The entire story from the time I got my assignment to the moment that jet took off from Ireland. I told him how I couldn't kill Murphy, but shot my brother in his head. I told him that Conner kissed me, and how betrayed Murphy seemed when I told him. I told him I didn't want to leave Ireland, but had to in order to protect the twins. I told him there was nothing more in this entire world I wanted than to go back to them, but that opportunity was gone. And now I was here, asking him for a new life.

Bastian took it all in silence, nodding every so often and taking sips from his wine while I finished up the full extent of the story. When I was done, he simply reached across the table and took my hand, looked me in the eyes and said, "I could never imagine going through that Val. I can't begin to understand how hard this must all be for you. But I'm glad you came to Paris, I'm glad I got to see you, even if it's just for a little while."

We ordered our food, drank our wine, and spent the rest of our time together sharing stories of what we had been up to in the last year we hadn't seen each other. Once we were done, Bastian paid our check and walked me out just as the car that brought me pulled back up to the curb. "Head back to the penthouse, make yourself at home, I'll be back around eight, I have a rather important meeting to get to. I'll send a chef to prepare us something for dinner. I'll see you then." He kissed my cheek and opened the car door for me. I slid in and waved goodbye to Bastian as the car began to pull off.

I spent the rest of the afternoon reading in the living room. At around six Kristie escorted in the chef that began to prepare dinner. Kristie set up a dining table outside on the balcony and gave me another gift wrapped box sent by Bastian. This time it was a black gown fit for the opera house. I dressed in the gown and some matching heels and wore a red lipstick. The table outside was set beautifully, and Kristie left before I could compliment the table. I sat in the living room and at about eight Bastian came home, dressed in a fine grey suit.

"You know," He began as I stood to greet him, "I could get used to coming home to this, you in a gown waiting for me. It could make a man forget his past heartbreaks with ease." We went out to the table, decorated in lit candles, and the chef served us our meal and poured us our wine before Bastian dismissed him. Bastian lifted his wine glass and smiled to me before saying, "To relocation."

"Relocation." I repeated before we both took swigs of our wine. "So, how was your meeting?" I asked Bastian as I began to cut into the roasted quail on my plate.

"Oh, spectacular. An old associate of mine, we haven't seen each other in some time now." He had a certain smirk about him that when I caught of glimpse of it suddenly made me feel…a bit uneasy.

"What was the occasion?" I asked, trying to seemed interested in his day as I further ate my meal.

"Oh," He began simply as he took a few bites from his plate, "Mostly just trying to earn his good graces over again. Men like him are difficult to deal with once they feel you've betrayed them."

"Sounds like most men to me." I commented simply.

"Men like me." He bluntly retorted, his face changing in a way that made me feel awkward. "Do you remember the day we told your father about our engagement? I was so scared of what he'd say and how you'd react, but you kept promising me that no matter what we'd make it through it. That we'd get married no matter what he said." My body felt cold as Bastian continued, but not just from an odd feeling, actual chills. "And then what did you do to me Valentina? You left me, because you're father didn't approve." Bastian leaned back in his seat a bit, sighing softly. "You hurt me Val, and then you expected me to just help you run away? Did you honestly think you could just waltz in here like nothing ever happened? Like you didn't betray me?" I felt dizzy now, and my throat was dry, I wanted to say something but my head was starting to pound. "You see, unlike you Valentina, I know how to win back someone's trust. Like your father for example. After he found out about us, he didn't trust me anymore, wanted to completely rip apart my business and feed me to the wolves. Even though he didn't, he never treated me the same after that, but now I have this funny feeling everything is going to be fine between Mr. Volkov and I."

I heard the front door of the penthouse opened, and I turned to see Kristie walk through accompanied by a small group of towering and intimidating men, followed by my father. "Well done Mr. Duval." My father's voice made me want to gag, and that's when I noticed how knotted my stomach was. I wanted to run, but when I tried to stand I fell straight onto the ground.

Bastian walked over to me, kneeling down and brushing my bangs from over my forehead. "You might not be fond of revenge, but let me assure you Valentina, I most certainly am."


	16. Chapter Sixteen

_**Just a fair warning my lovelies, this chapter is going to be extremely graphic and will depict certain actions some of you may find uneasy. I apologize if it's "too much".**_

"I want you to scream." My father spoke to me in such a tone like a hiss as Marco pulled me up onto my feet by my hair. My father gripped my throat in his hand as he looked at me with such an intense look of hate and disgust. "I want you to cry." He slapped me just before Marco slammed me back against a wall. "I want them to hear your pain!" My father shouted as Marco pulled a knife from his pocket and started to cut the fabric of my clothes from me. "And if either one of you look away even for a second, Sergei will put a bullet in her head." My father spoke to the twins as the other man, Sergei, stood between them holding s gun pointed towards me. "And when Marco is done with you," My father then turned back to me as Marco continued to rip off my clothes, "You're going to finish these two off, you're going to put a bullet in their heads. I won't let it be said that Valentina Volkov died without a perfect killing record."

My father then left the room; unlike Vladimir, he didn't enjoy watching his acts of torture. But by the looks on both Marco and Sergei's faces, it was obvious they did. A part of me wished one of them would look away, because I figured a bullet would be much more preferable to what was about to happen.

Marco backhanded me so hard I fell, now naked, onto the floor. I kept my head down, but could see piece by piece of Marco's wardrobe dropping to the floor. He removed his suit jacket, dress shirt, tie, and undershirt, but left his pants on. He dropped down on his knees and slammed my head into the hard ground as he then took me from behind. He kept one hand on the back of my head, the other pressing down so hard on my shoulders I thought he'd dislocate it from the force. I didn't want to scream, I fought the urge, despite the pain. "Scream you fucking bitch!" Marco shouted at me as he started to thrust harder. "I said fucking scream!" He lifted me up by my hair and reached his hand around to grip my throat. He choked me and I coughed out muffled screams before he returned his hand to pull my hair.

"I bet you wish it was one of them, don't you?" Marco leaned down and whispered to me in Russian before he pulled out of me. He stood up; pulling me onto my knees by my hair and making me turn to face the twins. They were crying, both of them. In their tears I saw absolute fury. But as I looked at Conner I saw his eyes cut away from me, and to Marco. I followed his line of sight the best I could without Sergei noticing; Conner was trying to show me the gun in Marco's holster, just a reach away from me. "I want you to think about them," Marco began, "think about them while you suck me." Marco shoved himself inside my mouth, and pulled my head back by my hair before repeating the process. I pretended to lose my balance and hold onto Marco's thighs to keep from falling over. I looked up at him, his eyes were closed.

It happened so fast really; when Marco pulled me by my hair, I punched him as hard as I possibly could given my drugged state right in his groin as I reached for his gun from his holster. At the same time, Conner knocked into Sergei causing him to fall and dropped his gun, which was when Murphy slyly looped his tied arms up under his legs and grabbed Sergei's gun. While Murphy kept the gun pointed at Sergei, Conner got to the feet and ran to knock into Marco and crash him into the ground as I stood up with Marco's gun in hand.

I stumbled over to Sergei and took the hunting knife from the holster on his belt I had been eyeing the last few days when he came in to beat me. I cut Murphy loose and he pulled the gag out from his mouth as I cut Conner's ties next and handed him Marco's gun. I picked up Marco's dress shirt and buttoned it over my naked body as I turned to him and spoke in Russian, "Take your pants and boxers off." At first he remained still until Conner pressed the barrel of the gun into Marco's temple, "Fucking now God damnit." I shouted at him, fighting the urge to vomit (it was hard to be intimidating when you were puking all over the place). I looked over at Murphy who was trying to keep his focus on Sergei, but turned to face me when I looked at him, "You can go ahead and shoot that one." I instructed him, which he did without hesitation.

The gunshot made Marco jump a bit then fumble with his belt as he continued to remove his pants and boxers. Once Marco was good and naked I took it upon myself to gather his boxers from off the floor and slip them on over my lower body. I kneeled down in front of Marco, holding Sergei's hunting knife up against Marco's throat, "You know, I've been taking your beatings for the last days thinking to myself, 'when I get my chance to kill this son of a bitch, how exactly am I going to do?' and now, I have my answer." I lowered the knife and without a moment's hesitation, cut his dick off. Before he could scream I slammed my hand over his mouth and put the now bloody knife back against his throat. "Shut your fucking mouth you pig." I shoved him back and slammed his head into the floor so hard it knocked him out cold.

I stood back to my feet keeping the knife in my hand, perfectly content to leave Marco there to bleed out. I started towards the door, too embarrassed to look at either Conner or Murphy, but Murphy was the first too catch my wrist and pull me back. "Val, you need to stay here and let us take care of this."

"I can do this." I insisted. I tried to pull my hand away from him but he just jerked me back and pulled me closer, standing behind me and wrapping his arms around me from behind.

"You don't need to." He had dropped his gun to hold me, and I dropped the knife to reach up and touch my hands to his arms as he held me there. "I'm so sorry," He whispered to me, "I should have never let you leave like that." I felt his nose against my neck as he stayed close to me.

"We need to hurry." Conner insisted as he walked over to us, "Val, do you know where we are?"

"Probably my father's mansion." I answered as I stepped away from Murphy and picked the knife back up from the ground. "He'll probably be in his study, waiting for Marco and Sergei to tell him it's done."

"Guards?" Murphy asked as he picked the gun back up.

"Only at the front gates of the estate, he says having guards in the house interferes with his personal life."

"Is there any chance he heard any of that?" Conner asked me as he headed towards the door, me more slowly than them.

"The basement is completely sound proof, and unlike Vladimir he doesn't keep it wired." I informed them as I struggled to keep up with them.

"Val, really, you need to sit this one out." Murphy insisted once we opened the door and left my personal hell hole.

I slammed the door shut behind us and locked it from the outside; in case Marco someone magically survived. I turned to look at both of them, a look in my eyes that make sure they understood I wasn't going to pass this up, "Not a chance."


	17. Chapter Seventeen

_**Dear **Reedus Fan**, I was reading your review for Chapter Twelve, and in regards to your comment about how Conner was going to be in trouble with Murphy, I thought it'd be a fun little update to provide some insight into the aftermath of the airport scene. I hope you enjoy this chapter, as well as the rest of you my lovelies 3 **_

"Are you going to stay pissed at me the rest of our damn lives?" Conner shouted through the door; Murphy had locked himself in his room and refused to come out ever since they got back from the airport, and that had been a long time. He assumed at night while he was sleeping Murphy would sneak out, eat, and use the bathroom, but then again Murphy was a stubborn fellow. "It's been like a week Murphy, just let it go." Conner insisted.

"Fuck off!" Murphy shouted from inside his room.

"Murphy she's gone, it's over. Can we please just forget about her?"

Before Conner even had time to blink, Murphy's bedroom door swung open and Murphy punched his brother right in his gut. "Forget about her? Are you fucking kidding me!?" Murphy shouted as he shoved his brother back away from his door. "She was one hell of a woman Conner, obviously you noticed it to or else you wouldn't have fucking kissed her behind my fucking back! So tell me, just how the hell am I supposed to forget her?"

Conner took a step back, trying to remain calm in hopes of getting Murphy to chill out. "Murphy, she's not coming back, you need to accept that."

"I can't!" Murphy threw his arms up in the air. "I could have had something with her, and I can't just go on not thinking about what could have happened if you hadn't pushed her away!"

"I didn't push her away!" Conner shouted now, hurt his brother would even think that of him. "She was going to leave no matter we said, no matter how much we begged. She left to protect us, why can't you see that?"

"You know what, none of this makes me forget the fact you fucking kissed her."

"Oh, now we're back on that?"

"You knew damn good and well how I felt about her, but you fucking kissed her Conner? That's fucked up."

"I made a mistake Murph, I'm sorry, I just got so caught up things, I thought maybe-"

"Maybe what? That what I felt between us was wrong?"

"What the fuck does any of this matter anymore Murphy!"

"It matters because I trusted you." Murphy was no longer shouting. He just stood there, staring at his brother with such a look of disappointment."I told you how I felt about her, and you stabbed me in the back. You kissed the girl I had feelings for. And now she's gone, because you pushed her away, and I'll never know what could have happened between us. That's why it matters Conner. It matters because you put yourself before me, your own brother. What you did hurt me, and you don't even care."

Before Conner could argue, there was a knock at the door. Both the twins turned to face the door, and Conner swiftly (and quietly) moved to the coffee table where his gun had been sitting while Murphy disappeared back in his room to get his own firearm. Conner crept up to the door slowly, pressing his ear to the door.

"Conner and Murphy McManus," a voice called to them from the other side of the door, he had a Russian accent. Conner feared for the worse, the Volkov family sending someone to pick up the pieces. Murphy reappeared in the doorway of his bedroom, his gun ready. "Valentina Volkov sent us." The voice continued. Conner looked to his brother, whose eyes widened as he shook his head yes for Conner to let the man in. Conner was less trusting.

Murphy snuck over to Conner, and whispered to his brother, "If they hadn't been sent by Val, how else would they know she was alive?" Conner remained silent, but realized his brother actually made a good point. If they were coming just to kill the brothers for them "killing" Val and Vlad, why would they say Val sent them? Conner looked to his brother, and with a simple nod stepped back but kept his gun ready just in case. Murphy straightened his posture and opened the front door, very cautiously, as he took in the sight of the two Russians outside. "Is everything alright with Valentina?"

"Of course Mr. McManus." The first one spoke as Murphy stepped aside and let them in. The man looked at Conner as he entered, taking note of his gun. "I assure you, we are unarmed. Ms. Volkov sent us with a message."

"What message?" Conner asked, feeling uneasy about the situation.

"She's sorry." The second Russian spoke. "She wants you both to come join her in Paris."

Conner looked over at Murphy, his face lit like a kid at Christmas. Conner was less optimistic, and simply looked over the two men carefully, "And why didn't she just come here?"

"Too dangerous for her to travel." The first man answered confidently.

"Did you work for Vladimir?" Conner furthered questioned.

"Of course not." The second man answered, "We were hired by Ms. Volkov."

"And what do you do for Ms. Volkov?" Conner probed more, obviously not trusting either of these men in his house.

"Conner." Murphy hissed his brother's name. "What does it matter?"

"I asked you a question." Conner pressed further, keeping his attention on the Russians.

"Research." The second man answered. The second man and Conner locked stares before Murphy nodded his brother.

"Conner, what the fuck are we waiting for?" Murphy urged.

Conner remained silent, keeping his eyes on the Russians for a good long while before looking at his brother, "You really think this is a good idea?"

"I was right about Val, wasn't I?" Murphy insisted.

Conner looked over his brother's face. What if Murphy was right and Conner denied him this after he had already hurt Murphy so deeply? He didn't want to risk their lives, but he was more afraid of risking his brother's happiness. Defeated, Conner lowered his fun and sighed under his breath. "Then we'll go."


	18. Chapter Eighteen

_**So it had been brought to my attention that sometimes I use "MacManus" and other times "McManus". My apologizes. I would go through and update every chapter to "MacManus" but ain't nobody got time for that **_

Despite me reassuring the twins there were no guards in the house, we still moved very cautiously after we came up from the basement. The moment I saw the expensive designer area rug ion the hallway floor-the same rug Vladimir used to think it was funny to roll me up in-I knew my assumption was correct and we were in my father's mansion.

"Does he carry any weapons?" Conner asked me as I showed them to way to the study.

"Not on him in the house, he keeps all his weapons in a special cabinet in the study. The moment he gets home he goes straight to the study to always put them away." I answered, hoping that habit hadn't changed.

"Didn't you say he'd be in the study?" Murphy asked.

"More than likely. But the cabinet is always kept locked. We'll take him by surprise, he won't have time to get to it and unlock it." I reassured him.

"And you're sure there's no way he'll know we're coming?" Conner furthered questioned.

"All the camera's are on the exterior of the house." I finally stopped and turned to face them, a look of annoyance at their questions on my face, "Now could you both please be quite and just trust me?"

"We do trust you." Murphy began.

"It's just, we know you're not exactly in your right mind at the present time and your memory of how things used to be may be a little off." Conner stated.

"Not to mention he may have a changed a few things since you've been gone." Murphy added.

"My father is a creature of habit." I reassured them one last time as I turned to resume our sneak across the mansion. We quietly ascended up the stairs, and navigated the halls of the mansion's second story to the doors of my father's study. "It won't be locked." I informed them as Conner slowly put his hand on the doorknob and turned ever so calmly.

He pushed the door opened and with his gun drawn he went in first, followed by Murphy. "What the fuck?" I heard my father shout in Russian just before I stepped in through the doorway, dressed in Marco's shirt and boxers, covered in Marco's blood, and holding Sergei's hunting knife. My father's eyes fell right on me the moment I walked in, the moment he saw me a subtle hint of fears struck his gaze. "Valentina…" He began, but I was too impatient. I chucked the knife straight for him, and it pierced right through his shoulder and he screamed.

He was sitting in his favorite armchair by the small fireplace, a book and glass of wine on the coffee table in front of him. Murphy and Conner moved to stand on either side of him, holding their guns to his head as I approached. I flipped the coffee table out of my way, spilling his wine and not giving two shits if it stained his expensive white carpet. I slapped my father across his face and jerked the knife from his shoulder; he screamed again. "What was it you taught me about screaming?" I mocked him in Russian as I stabbed the knife into his thigh. "Only bitches scream?" I left the knife in his thigh as I dug into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, finding the weapon's cabinet key.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing Valentina?" My father shouted at me as I went over to his prized weapon's cabinet.

"What the fuck do you think?" I looked back at him before unlocking the cabinet. Inside was a katana, a weapon my father knew nothing about but was given as a gift by one of his Japanese clients. I ignored the guns and other knives and went straight for that sword. "Do you remember the day we went to Japan on vacation and your client presented you with this sword? Do you remember what you did with it?"

"Nothing." My father answered, confused. "I never used it."

"Exactly. Such a waste of a beautiful weapon." I took the blade from its sheath and began to walk back to my father in his armchair. "I bet it's still as sharp as the day he gave it to you." I commented as I held the blade to my father's face. I caught glimpses of Conner and Murphy as they watched me. They knew I was not torturer, not like Vlad or Marco, but my father deserved every bit of pain I inflicted and I was going to make sure it was brutal.

"Valentina." A voice caught me off guard. A woman I hadn't taken into consideration during this entire ordeal. My mother. I turned to face the blank expression of my mother as she stood in the doorway of the study, her eyes not showing a single hint of fear or anger. But instead my mother looked to me with understanding. My mother had never approved of what my father raised me to do, and even though she loved him she hated the business he thrived in and had always begged him to spare me from the horrors of his industry. It had always created such a deep tension between them. Which was why now as she took in the sight of me holding that katana in front of him, she didn't question it; but instead simply nodded.

My father's eyes never left me, not even to look at his wife who now gave me the approval to kill him. Without another moment of hesitation, or so much as even another word, I stabbed the sword right into my father's gut with such a force it tore right through the chair and went through the back as I buried it down to the hilt. The blood dripped, and he coughed masses of blood from his mouth onto me as I watched the very life disappear right from his eyes.

It wasn't until after I killed my father I realized how tired I had been. I took a step back, and everything became so cold and blurry. I had been fighting off the drugs for so long, now they were starting to win the battle. I stumbled, and slowly dropped to knees. I heard Murphy shout my name, and felt his arms wrap around me in an attempt to get me back on my feet but I wasn't moving that much was certain. I leaned my head against his chest and I felt his hand pressed against my forehead and heard him mumbled something about me being freezing cold before he whispered to me, "It's ok now, it's over." That was the last thing I remembered before I passed out cold in Murphy's arms.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

The room I woke up in was dark, and my vision was a little blurry at first anyway. Once things started to clear up, I could see the moon outside the windows through the sheer fabric of the curtains. I heard a strange beep, like some sort of machine and that was when I noticed the medical equipment I was hooked up to; not surprising, considering my mother had been a doctor that had a contract with the Volkov family before she became a member of the family herself. I noticed my mother over in an armchair near the window with a book in her lap, sleeping peaceful. I must have made too much noise in my attempts to sit up because she stirred a little before completely snapping back awake, dropping her book. "Valentina?" She called my name softly as she looked across the darkness at me.

"Yes mother." I called back to her with a soft cringe of pain in my back.

"Sweetheart, don't try to move so quickly." She instructed me, in Russian, as she stood quickly to her feet and rushed over to my bedside. She turned on a lamp on the bedside table and gently pushed on my shoulders for me to lie back down. "You must be in so much pain, I didn't want to give you any pain killers until you were awake."

"No pain killers. I've had enough drugs for a lifetime." I insisted.

"I've flushed most the drugs from your system." She informed me as she sat on t edge of the bed next to me. "Are you still feeling the effects?"

"Not really." I mused out loud. "My throat is pretty dry, I could use some wat- Oh my God! Where are the twins?" I shouted in concerned and my mother was quick to shush me.

"They're asleep in the guest rooms. Don't worry sweetie, they're safe, and so are you. No one else knows you're alive. After Bastian called your father, he only told Marco and Sergei besides me. Speaking of Bastian, I imagine you're going after him next?"

"Naturally." I answered quickly.

"I would love to see the look on his face when he sees you're alive."

"Perhaps we could arrange that." I smiled at my mother who chuckled softly under her breath. As I let the last few events of my life really sink in, I began to realize I had just murdered the head of the Volkov family. I looked to my mother, concern lining my face, "What did you do about the bodies?" I didn't even need to say which bodies for her to understand.

"I called your Uncle Boris. He was a little too excited to hear about your father's death. I simply told him I came home and found him that way. No one questioned it really. He took care of the rest. He's already assumed power of the family business, of course. I'm certain if he knew you were alive and responsible, he'd thank you, he's been waiting for years for your father to die so he could take over. But don't worry my darling, no one will ever know what really happened." She explained to me, brushing some hair from over my face. "You know, sometimes I think about what would have happened if your father hadn't knocked me up and basically forced me to marry him. But then when I look at you, I'm so glad he did. I always knew you were better than him and Vladimir, and I knew one day you'd realize it. I thank God for those two Irish boys, they were exactly what you needed to finally wake up Valentina. Now you can have the life I never did, a life outside the world." She leaned down and kissed my forehead, smiling sweetly at me. "I'll go get you some water dear."

I dwelled on what my mother had said, about the twins helping me realize I was better than my father and brother. She came back into the room almost as quickly as she had left, holding a glass of ice water for me. She helped me sit up so I could drink it and that's when we heard a soft knock on the door. My mother went to answer it, and from the other side I heard Murphy's soft voice, "I heard you walking down the hall, is everything alright Mrs. Volkov?"

"I told you, please call me Albina, and everything is fine. She's awake now, would you like to come in?" She offered this knowing I wouldn't object.

"Awake?" I heard the disbelief in Murphy's voice as he walked through the door and his sights instantly fell on me.

"I'll leave you two alone then." My mother smiled at me before disappearing out into the hall and shutting the door behind her.

I sat my glass of water on the bedside table and just looked at Murphy, looking at me with such a dumbfounded expression like there were so many things he wanted to say but couldn't decide which to say first. So this time, I was the first one to break the silence, "Murphy I'm so sorry." Almost instantly I felt the tears swell up in my eyes and he was quick to rush to my side. "I should have listened to you, I shouldn't have trusted Bastian. I should have stayed. I risked your life, you and Conner both, when all I was trying o do was protect you."

"Val," He tried to shush me as he sat at my side, placing his hands on my face and wiping away my tears as they fell down my cheeks. "This isn't your fault."

"Yes it is. I was so stupid to trust him, I'm so sorry." I felt such an extreme sense of guilt for what I had done, for what I put him and Conner through. I looked at Murphy, his eyes staring back at me with such a look of comfort and sweetness, and I couldn't help but hate myself for everything I had done to him. I tried to apologize again, but before the words could even come out, Murphy leaned towards me and silenced me with a kiss.

Both his hands caressed my face so softly as his lips stayed against mine. My hands trembled with such a strange sense of nerves as I touched them instinctively to his shoulders. As I leaned into his kiss, returning it, he only deepened it. What started as such a simple thing now seemed to explode with more passion and affection I had ever experienced in a lifetime. I never wanted it to end, but it did. Murphy pulled away from me and rested his forehead mine, the tips of our noses touching, his eyes still closed even after I opened mine. "Don't you dare apologize to me for this Valentina." He whispered to me in Russian. He opened his eyes now, our stares connecting as he ran his fingers through my hair. "I'm here with you now, you're safe, and that's all that matters to me." He leaned back a little and brought me closer to him, resting my head against his chest as he held me and stroked my hair.

I didn't want him to leave me, and he didn't. He crawled under the blankets with me and held me the rest of the night. I slept with my head on his chest and arms around me. It made me feel so safe and secure, like nothing was going to hurt me as long as he was there with me.

I woke up the next morning and Murphy was still there. As I sat up he started to wake up. He sat up next to me, yawning a bit as he did, and looking over at me with such a gentle smile I felt like my face burn with a red blush. "Good morning." He said to me simply. "I would love to kiss you right now." He confessed, "But I have morning breath and that simply just won't do." We both laughed as he started to toss the blankets off him and get up and out of the bed. "I'm going to see if Conner's awake and let him know you're finally up.

"Finally up? How long was I out?"

"About three days." He informed me.

"Oh my God." I mumbled under my breath.

"I'll let your mom know you're up too, she'll want to make sure you're feeling alright and get some food in your stomach."

I nodded to him and he smiled and leaned down to me to kiss my forehead. "Thank you Murphy, for not leaving me last night." I whispered to him and he just his head at me.

"Of course." He answered with a smile, but with a bit of a more serious tone to his voice before he left me there in the room alone. I missed him once he was gone, and found myself pondering in my mind how I could try to leave him again? I knew then if he asked to come back to the farmhouse, I would. The only problem was, would he? Afterall, I had left without a single hesitation the first time, and after what happened at the airport…Was all this, him kissing and holding me, just pity? Did he feel sorry for me because he just watched me get beat and raped then murder my father in cold blood? Surely he was still hurt after what had happened before. But I wanted to believe this was more than him feeling sorry for me, I wanted to believe this was all genuine, and that Murphy MacManus actually cared for me because I was tired of denying what I had known all along; I cared for him in a way I had never cared for another person before in my entire life.


End file.
